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To  the  Carpenter  of  Nazareth. 


Would  Christ  Belong  to 
a  Labor  Union  ? 

OR 

Henry  Fielding's  Dream 


BY 

CORTLAND  MYERS,  D.D. 

i 

AOTHOI   or 

'MIDNIGHT  IN  A  GREAT  CITY,"    "  WHY  MEN  DO  NOT  GO  TO  CHURCH,' 
"MAKING   A   LIFE,"    ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
STREET  &  SMITH,  Publishers 

238   William  Street 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1900 

By  Street  &  Smith 

In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


This  book  is  not  all  fiction.     A  large  part  of  it  is 
from  real  life. 

The  Author. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter.  Page. 

I. — Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question,  .  .        7 

II. — The  Startling  Sermon,     ...  24 

III. — A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice,        ...       41 

IV. — A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10,   .  60 

V. — In  David  Dowling's  Study,          .  .       83 

VI. — The  Telegram  from  Home,      .         .  101 

VII. — A  Minister  in  the  Union,     .         .  .121 

VIII. — In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor,       .         .  141 

IX.— A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit,           .         .  .163 

X. — Henry  Fielding's  Conversion,          .  181 

XI. — The  Chasm  Bridged,   ....     199 

XII. — Is  This  a  Dream  ?   .         .        .         ,  210 


Would  Christ  Belong  to 
a  Labor  Union? 


CHAPTER  I. 

STOPPED  BY  A  STRANGE  QUESTION. 

"Would  Christ  belong  to  a  labor  union  ?"  was  the 
question  that  almost  startled  Henry  Fielding  as  it 
met  his  eyes  at  the  corner  of  the  street  on  the  church 
bulletin.  He  was  on  his  way  to  work  in  the  early 
morning,  and  had  already  been  detained  at  home, 
and  also  a  moment  by  a  friend  on  the  way;  but  he 
could  not  pass  on  without  pausing  in  front  of  that 
peculiar  question  and  reading  the  smaller  letters  be- 
neath it. 

It  was  an  announcement  of  the  services  for  the 
next  day  in  the  church.  The  special  sermon,  the 
minister's  name,  the  attractive  music  and  a  warm 
welcome  for  all. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  have  not  been  to  church  in  so 
long  a  time  that  I  would  not  know  how  to  act,  but 


8         Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question. 

I  would  like  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say  about  that. 
If  I  live  until  to-morrow,  I  am  going  to  change  the 
Sunday  programme  and  go  to  church." 

He  hastened  on  and  turned  around  to  glance  at 
the  other  side  of  the  bulletin. 

"That  is  not  such  a  strange  subject  after  all," 
thought  he.  "The  strange  thing  about  it  is  that  the 
preacher  and  the  church  are  asking  it." 

Henry  Fielding  was  a  noble  fellow  in  heart  and 
purpose.  He  had  an  unselfish  disposition ;  his  ambi- 
tions were  kingly,  but  they  were  thwarted  by  circum- 
stances. No  young  man  ever  came  out  of  a  more 
truly  religious  home.  His  early  life  was  enriched 
by  the  family  prayer,  the  church  service,  and  the 
Sunday  school.  He  had  learned  whole  chapters  of 
the  Bible  for  prize  and  pleasure  both.  His  home 
was  among  the  hills  of  Vermont.  A  small  farm, 
a  small  mortgage,  a  continuous  struggle,  and  a  rigid 
economy  on  the  part  of  his  parents  were  the  environ- 
ment of  those  boyhood  days.  His  father  had  died 
when  Henry  was  but  ten  years  of  age,  leaving  his 
mother  broken-hearted  and  in  broken  health  to  fight 
the  hard  and  continuous  battle  alone.  He  was  the 
eldest  of  three  children — a  sister,  Elsie,  of  eight,  and 
a  brother,  Will,  of  six.  Those  years  of  his  responsi- 
bility and  his  mother's  heroism  made  an  impression 
upon  him  never  to  be  obliterated.  The  mortgage 
became  no  less ;  rather,  as  most  mortgages  go,  it  be- 


Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question.         9 

came  more.  The  interest  had  to  come,  and  the  eggs 
and  butter  sold,  instead  of  eaten.  Each  year  made 
him  understand  that  he  must  bear  more  of  the  bur- 
den. 

It  brought  him  into  manhood  before  his  time,  and 
drew  some  of  the  sweetness  and  necessity  out  of  real 
life.  It  is  the  tragedy  of  life  to  be  an  old  young 
man. 

The  natural  and  the  ideal  are  to  come  with  the 
years,  and  not  force  them.  But  circumstances  swung 
the  sceptre  and  said,  "Give  up  school ;  cover  your 
eyes  in  front  of  other  opportunities.  Know  not  envy 
and  thrust  your  jack-knife  into  the  very  heart  of 
dissatisfaction.  Stand  by  your  mother !"  The  years 
passed  by,  and  never  saw  his  courage  fail. 

Will  came  to  be  a  young  man  of  eighteen,  and 
seemed  to  have  more  liking  for  the  farm  than  his 
brother  had  ever  been  able  to  force  into  his  heart 
or  activity. 

Then  Henry  began  to  make  his  plans  to  go  to 
the  great  city,  learn  a  trade,  become  skilled,  save  his 
money,  make  an  invention,  have  a  manufactory  of 
his  own,  get  rich,  help  his  sister,  care  for  his  mother, 
and  forget  forever  bare  feet,  mortgage,  butterless 
bread,  etc. 

Oh,  what  dreams  we  have  in  the  daytime  I  Almost 
as  strange  as  at  night,  and  almost  as  far  from  reality. 
Yet  it  is  better  to  dream  than  not. 


io      Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question. 

He  now  had  been  in  the  city  several  years,  and 
worked  hard  and  without  any  flagging  zeal  or  de- 
termination, but  a  haze  had  been  creeping  across 
the  star  of  hope  in  his  sky. 

This  part  of  his  life  was  not  just  as  he  had  planned 
or  wished,  but  he  had  enough  of  the  divinity  of 
mankind  in  him  not  to  be  easily  conquered.  He  did 
not  try  to  push  back  the  current,  but  he  was  not  the 
one  to  be  drowned  in  its  waters. 

One  day  as  he  stood  at  his  work,  the  man  nearest 
him  heard  him  say,  "to-morrow." 

He  said,  "Henry,  what  are  you  talking  about?" 

"I  did  not  know  that  I  was  talking  about  any- 
thing," said  Henry ;  "but  I  do  know  that  I  was  keep- 
ing up  a  serious  kind  of  thinking." 

"Well,  you  were  thinking  aloud  this  time.  I 
heard  a  part  of  it,  anyway." 

"I  am  not  afraid  to  tell  you  what  I  was  thinking 
about.  I  was  getting  gloomy  and  almost  in  a  fit 
of  despondency.  Plans  fail  so  quickly  and  com- 
pletely, and  to-day  seems  especially  dark  to  me.  In 
the  secret  silence  of  my  soul  I  was  saying  over  and 
over  again :  'There'll  be  another  day.'  If  you  heard 
me  say  'to-morrow,'  that  is  the  reason." 

His  sister  Elsie  had  written  him  a  letter  the  day 
before,  telling  him  of  her  deep  desire  to  secure  some 
advantages  which  the  country  did  not  furnish,  and 
which  she  never  could  receive  unless  she  could  come 


Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question.       n 

to  the  city  and  have  the  best  of  training.  She  was 
in  a  kind  of  prison  up  there  in  the  mountains,  and 
there  was  no  future  for  her.  Her  friends  told  her 
that  she  had  a  wonderful  musical  talent  if  it  could 
only  be  cultivated.  She  played  the  organ  for  them 
in  their  little  church,  and  often  sang  as  no  one  else 
there  could  sing.  She  seemed  the  larger  part  of  the 
church  service. 

All  this  had  only  been  the  fuel  on  the  burning 
desire  already  in  her  heart  to  know  more  and  be 
more.  Mother  said  she  would  sell  the  farm;  but 
that  would  not  help — rather,  it  might  hinder.  Henry 
was  the  only  one  to  ask  what  could  be  done. 

This  was  the  hard  problem  in  his  hand  now.  That 
letter  was  for  a  moment  more  puzzling  and  impor- 
tant to  him  than  the  map  of  Europe  to  Napoleon 
before  the  Battle  of  Waterloo1.  At  last  he  stamped 
his  foot  and  declared  that  this  was  more  necessary 
than  anything  else,  and  ought  to  be  done  at  once, 
even  if  all  the  other  plans  of  the  years'  making 
should  be  opposed  or  even  destroyed  by  it. 

He  was  careful  in  the  use  of  his  pronouns,  and 
uttered  the  "you"  a  score  of  times  where  once  he 
spoke  the  "I."  Elsie  was  told  to  come  to  the  city, 
and  he  would  furnish  two  rooms.  She  could  keep 
house  for  him  and  herself,  and  take  her  music  les- 
sons. It  would  require  all  his  earnings  and  destroy 
the  possibility  of  saving,  but  the  great  lesson  he  had 


12       Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question. 

learned  in  the  school  of  life  had  already  taught  him 
what  it  was  to  save — that  hoarded  treasure  might 
not  be  saving. 

"This,"  he  said,  "is  the  best  method  of  saving,  to 
place  it  in  the  bank  of  my  sister's  life  and  let  it  draw 
interest  forever.  If  I  cannot  get  what  I  had  planned, 
let  her  secure  the  object  of  her  life.  Perhaps  in  her 
ambition  attained  is  the  realization  of  my  own." 

Elsie  had  come  to  the  city.  The  plans  had  been  per- 
fected, the  two  rooms  were  furnished,  or  rather  fixed 
so  that  a  brother  and  sister  who  loved  each  other 
and  understood  the  object  of  their  toil  and  sacrifice, 
could  live  in  them. 

The  one  had  to  be  parlor,  kitchen,  sitting-room, 
library  and  Henry's  sleeping-room.  A  lounge  at 
one  side  was  his  bed,  a  small  stove  was  sufficient  for 
heating  the  rooms  and  the  cooking  of  their  food, 
a  few  chairs  and  a  table,  some  pictures,  and  every- 
thing without  an  atom  of  dust  upon  it  and  spot- 
lessly clean. 

Elsie's  training  made  two  rooms  the  same  as  a 
palace  to  her,  and  taught  her  that  there  was  no 
economy  in  dirt  out  of  its  place. 

It  was  Saturday  night.  The  familiar  step  was 
heard  on  the  stairway.  The  door  opened.  Elsie 
was  in  the  other  room,  but  shouted,  "Hello !"  before 
Henry  had  closed  the  door  behind  him.  She 
hastened  out  to  arrange  the  table  as  attractively  as 


Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question.      13 

she  possibly  could.  She  asked  him  all  about  his 
day,  and  if  he  was  tired ;  then  for  a  moment  sat  at 
the  table  looking  directly  at  him,  her  great  eyes  full 
of  admiration  for  him.  He  was  almost  her  idol ;  at 
least,  her  ideal. 

Suddenly  he  said:  "Elsie,  I  am  going  to  church 
to-morrow." 

"What,"  said  she,  "do  you  mean  it?  I  am  so 
glad.  What  makes  you  say  that?  Why,  I  would 
think  you  were  perfect  if  you  would  only  go  to 
church  every  Sunday." 

"I  won't  promise  you  that,  but  I  will  go  to-mor- 
row morning  if  you  will  go  where  I  want  you  to." 

"Why,  certainly,  I  will  go  wherever  you  would 
like,  and  I  will  give  up  my  church  any  time  if  you 
would  only  attend  some  other  one  with  me.  Really, 
Henry,  this  has  been  the  only  bitter  drop  in  all  my 
cup — you  having  nothing  to  do  with  the  church." 

"Well,  we  won't  discuss  that  now,"  said  Henry; 
"but,  anyway,  I  will  go  to-morrow.  Perhaps  it  is 
only  curiosity,  but  I  will  be  there  just  the  same,  and 
that  will  in  itself  please  you." 

"What  is  the  object  of  your  curiosity,  and  where 
do  you  want  to  go  ?" 

"I  am  going  to  that  church  on  the  corner  of  North 
avenue  and  Thirteenth  street.  The  minister's  name 
I  have  almost  forgotten.  The  last  name  is  Dowling, 
and  I  think  the  first  name  is  David.     That  is  a  small 


14      Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question. 

matter,  anyhow.  I  never  notice  the  ministers' 
names,  and  I  had  never  heard  of  him  until  this  morn- 
ing; in  fact,  I  don't  know  any  of  them,  and  don't 
know  as  I  care  to." 

"Oh,  Henry,  do  not  say  that!  You  don't  under- 
stand either  yourself  or  them." 

"I  know  enough  about  the  churches  and  ministers 
to  know  that  they  have  lost  the  spirit  of  the  Bible, 
and  have  no  real  relation  to  the  greatest  needs  of 
to-day." 

"Wait  a  minute,  Henry.  They  are  trying  to  save 
the  people,  and  that  is  the  greatest  need  of  this  and 
all  other  days.  What  does  saving  people  mean?  If 
it  does  not  mean  saving  them  here  and  now,  and 
saving  the  society  in  which  they  live,  it  does  not 
mean  anything." 

"Better  get  this  world  right  before  they  talk  so 
much  about  the  next." 

"Oh  Henry,  that  is  not  the  way  Christ  talked !" 

"Yes,  that  is  just  the  way  Christ  talked,  and  lived, 
too,  if  I  remember  the  story  right.  Of  course,  I 
have  not  had  much  to  do  with  it  lately." 

"I  am  sure  that  you  do  not  understand  the  Gospel, 
or  the  purpose  and  work  of  the  ministers  and 
churches,  or  you  would  not  feel  just  as  you  say." 

"Now,  Elsie,  there  is  not  any  use  in  talking  to  me 
about  this,  because  my  convictions  are  fixed,  and  I 
believe  in  good  reasons.    I  did  not  give  up  church 


Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question.       15 

and  prayer  and  all  my  early  training  without  suffi- 
cient cause.  You  have  not  seen  what  I  have,  nor 
have  you  passed  through  some  of  my  experiences. 
A  good  many  things  ought  to  be  made  right,  and 
the  churches  ought  to  be  the  first  to  enter  into  the 
work ;  but  they  are  the  last,  and  most  of  them  stand 
on  the  corner  of  the  streets  like  sepulchres  for  dead 
people,  instead  of  great  centres  where  the  business 
of  Christianity  is  being  transacted  and  the  wrongs 
of  human  society  are  being  righted.  The  working- 
men  do  not  cross  the  threshold  of  these  tombs  to- 
day. There  are  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  where 
I  work,  and  only  three  of  them  go  to  church.  There 
are  one  hundred  and  forty-seven  heathen  right  in 
that  one  place,  and  I  am  one  of  them — not  by  choice, 
but  by  compulsion." 

"I  cannot  argue  with  you,  Henry,  but  I  am  sure 
you  are  prejudiced,  and  don't  really  understand 
what  the  Gospel  mission  is,  or  what  the  churches 
are  doing.  You  talk  about  the  wrongs  of  society, 
and  all  this,  but  what  would  this  great  city  be  with- 
out the  churches  ?" 

Henry  turned  in  his  chair  and  drummed  on  the 
table  with  his  fork,  and  said,  with  a  disgusted  air: 
"It  couldn't  be  much  worse.  Say,  Elsie,  do  you 
know  that  most  working  men  think  that  the  Church 
has  not  one  particle  of  sympathy  for  them,  but  caters 
to  the  rich  and  well-to-do  in  order  to  be  well  sup- 


1 6       Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question. 

ported  and  build  first-class  buildings,  and  have  more 
stately  services.  I  declare  some  of  them  are  like 
great  icebergs  now  and  make  you  shiver  even  to  pass 
them.  They  ought  to  warm  the  world  instead  of 
floating  down  from  the  Arctic  regions  of  philosophy 
and  dogma  to  chill  human  society.  I  can't  help  it — if 
all  this  is  religion  I  don't  want  any'of  it.  It  was  all 
well  enough  when  I  was  up  in  the  country,  but  in  this 
great,  struggling,  seething  mass  of  humanity,  and  in 
this  whirlpool  of  injustices — in  the  same  city  with 
sweat-shops  and  tenements  and  strikes  to  get  wages 
and  to  keep  life,  the  Church  ought  to  do  something 
besides  sing  and  pray.  It  would  be  better  to  dispense 
with  the  preaching  and  do  a  little  practicing." 

"Hearken,"  said  Elsie,  "I  thought  I  heard  a  rap." 

Then  came  that  gentle  tap,  tap,  tap,  continuous 
and  familiar.  It  was  the  noise  peculiar,  but  always 
welcome. 

"Come  on,  old  fellow,"  shouted  Henry. 

In  walked  a  stalwart  young  man  of  bright  eye  and 
smiling  countenance,  quick  step  and  vivacity  in  every 
move,  almost  to  the  point  of  nervousness.  It  was 
Richard  Harding,  Henry's  companion,  and  had  been 
for  several  years.  He  sat  down  and  then  presently 
moved  to  another  chair,  and  almost  at  the  same  in- 
stant arose  and  picked  up  a  glass  from  the  table  and 
drank  the  remaining  water  in  it,  as  he  said:    "That 


Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question.       17 

was  a  lively  conversation  in  which  you  were  engaged 
when  I  was  coming  up  the  stairs,  and  Henry  seemed 
to  be  doing  the  most  of  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Henry.  "I  just  shocked  her  as  much 
as  if  a  bolt  of  lightning  had  come  right  down  through 
the  roof  and  landed  on  the  middle  of  the  table.  I 
don't  know  but  that  some  of  the  dishes  are  broken." 

"They  are  swept  clean,  anyway,"  said  Richard; 
"perhaps  that  was  the  effect  of  the  lightning." 

"Anyway,  it  was  not  a  quarrel,  was  it,  sister?"  said 
Henry. 

"No,"  replied  Elsie,  "but  I  must  confess  to  the 
shock,  or  rather  a  sensation,  call  it— a  pleasing  sen- 
sation." 

"Well,  what  was  it?"  said  Richard,  "let  me  into  the 
secret.     You  know  I  am  one  of  the  family." 

"If  you  are  one  of  the  family,"  said  Elsie,  "then 
you  will  have  to  go,  too." 

"Go  where?"  said  he. 

"I  will  let  Henry  tell  you,"  answered  Elsie,  with 
something  of  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eye. 

Henry  sat  with  his  feet  crossed  and  his  head  lean- 
ing on  the  back  of  his  chair,  gazing  at  the  ceiling  and 
again  drumming  with  his  fork  on  the  table,  apparent- 
ly oblivious  to  all  that  was  going  on  around  him,  but 
after  a  moment's  silence,  in  which  Elsie  had  changed 
glances  with  and  winked  to  Richard,  he  rolled  his 


1 8      Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question. 

head  over  toward  them,  and  said,  "What  was  you 
saying?" 

"Oh,  nonsense,"  said  Elsie,  "you  know,  come  now, 
out  with  it,  and  then  we  will  all  three  go  together." 

"Well,  Dick,  I  am  going  to  church  to-morrow 
morning." 

"Ha,  ha.,  ha,"  came  from  Richard's  side  of  the 
room.  "After  all  you  have  said  about  the  Church, 
and  you  having  no  use  for  it  any  more — now  going? 
I  thought  as  much ;  your  sister  has  been  working  her 
scheme,  and,  like  all  these  women,  they  get  just  about 
what  they  want  if  you  only  give  them  time  enough, 
and  most  always  it  doesn't  take  much  time.  Well,  I 
don't  wonder  at  her  influence.  I  think  I  might  be 
moved  myself." 

"Oh,  no,  it  wasn't  for  her  this  time ;  it  was  my  own 
decision  and  wish.  I  asked  her  to  go  with  me.  We 
will  take  you,  too." 

"Where  are  you  going  and  what  brought  this  into 
your  mind.  I  don't  believe  it  has  gotten  into  your 
heart  yet." 

"Will  you  go?"  said  Henry. 

"That  depends,"  replied  he,  "explain  yourself." 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  hear  a  preacher  answer  this 
question;   'Would  Christ  belong  to  a  labor  union?'  " 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  Richard,  "it  is  the  subject  that 
interests  you,  not  the  church." 


Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question.       19 

"I  guess  that's  it,"  replied  Henry.  "Anyway  the 
pastor  of  this  large  church  up  at  the  corner  of  North 
avenue  and  Thirteenth  street  has  advertised  that  as 
his  subject.  He  must  be  a  pretty  good  fellow,  and 
that  church  just  a  little  different  from  most  others. 
There  must  be  some  sympathy  there  and  anxiety  to 
solve  the  difficult  problems  of  the  present  date.  Do 
you  care  to  go  with  us  ?" 

"You  know,"  said  Richard,  "I  don't  go  to  church, 
and  in  fact  do  not  feel  very  guilty  about  it  either,  but 
wherever  there  is  the  slightest  effort  to  give  the  great 
question  of  labor  and  its  wrongs  a  hearing,  I  will  be 
glad  to  go  and  listen  with  both  ears.  Yes,  my  whole 
heart,  too." 

"All  right,"  said  Elsie,  "at  ten  o'clock  I  will  be 
ready." 

"Yes,"  said  Henry,  "at  ten  sharp  the  procession 
will  start,  and  Elsie  will  be  captain." 

"Ok,  no,"  said  she,  "this  is  your  doing,  and  you 
are  the  leader.  Richard  and  I  will  walk  together  and 
you  will  lead  the  way." 

"Say,  Henry,  have  you  seen  the  paper  to-night?" 

"No,  I  have  not,  Elsie  has  taken  all  my  time  talk- 
ing about  the  Church;  what  is  in  the  paper?" 

"Oh,  just  filled  about  the  strike.  It  is  in  a  greater 
mix-up  than  ever.  The  concessions  that  seem  just 
about  to  be  made  are  farther  away  than  yesterday, 


20      Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question. 

and  the  motormen  and  conductors  are  more  deter- 
mined than  ever.  The  sad  part  of  it  is  that  they  or 
their  false  friends  have  been  destroying-  cars  again, 
and  even  injuring  some  people  in  a  car  on  the  out- 
skirts in  the  eastern  part  of  the  city.  That  is  death 
to  their  cause,  and  ours,  too.  I  kept  saying  to  myself 
all  the  way  up  here,  'Oh,  the  folly  and  blindness  of 
this  method.' " 

"That's  so,  I  suppose,"  replied  Henry,  "but — well, 
I  don't  know  what  to  say — I  know  this,  they  are  over- 
worked and  under  paid  and  ought  to  have  their 
rights." 

"Come  out  for  a  little  walk  to  the  barber  shop,  I 
will  bring  you  back  to  your  sister  in  a  few  minutes 
all  cleaned  up  and  in  good  religious  shape  for  church 
in  the  morning." 

Elsie  laughed  as  they  walked  out,  and  called  down 
the  stairs:  "Come  back  soon,  Henry,  I  have  some- 
thing special  for  you  when  you  get  here." 

They  reached  the  street  and  had  just  turned  toward 
the  barber  shop  when  Richard  said :  "Henry,  what 
is  that — see  the  crowd  up  the  street,  somebody  must 
be  injured." 

They  hastened  toward  the  rapidly  increasing  num- 
ber of  men,  women  and  children. 

Henry  pushed  his  way  toward  the  centre,  and  his 
was  not  a  push  of  curiosity,  but  of  service.     If  there 


Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question.       21 

was  any  suffering,  he  always  wanted  to  relieve  it.  If 
there  was  anybody  receiving  injustice  he  was  anxious 
to  fight  for  him.  His  noble,  unselfish  soul  was  cry- 
ing with  him,  "Let  me  help,"  and  his  lips  and  hands 
carried  it  out  into  the  world.  It  was  the  force  of  that 
spirit  that  made  the  way. 

Richard  tried  to  follow  in  the  wake  of  the  great 
ship  ahead,  but  the  crowd  closed  in  behind  him. 

As  Henry  came  toward  the  centre  of  the  dense 
throng,  he  kept  inquiring:  "What  is  the  matter, 
what  is  the  matter?"  but  received  no  satisfactory  re- 
ply. No  one  seemed  to  know  just  what  had  taken 
place,  but  Henry  Fielding's  quick  eye  and  brave 
heart  were  enough.  He  saw  an  old  man  with  snow 
white  beard  and  with  features  and  clothing  of  refine- 
ment lying  partially  in  the  gutter.  His  hat  had  rolled 
into  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  his  face  was  not 
covered,  but  marked  with  blood.  An  ugly  bruise  was 
upon  his  forehead,  where  he  had  struck  the  stones. 
Instantly,  Henry  said:  "Why  don't  you  help  him 
up,  why  not  carry  him  into  the  drug  store  over  on 
the  corner,  do  something  for  him." 

Most  of  the  crowd  moved  back,  but  Henry  placed 
his  strong  arm  under  the  fallen  man's  head  and 
shoulders,  while  two  other  men  seized  the  lower  part 
of  his  body  and  carried  him  into  the  drug  store. 

With  the  aid  of  a  physician,  the  insensible  old  man 
came  back  to  life.    The  doors  had  been  locked  and 


22       Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question. 

the  crowd  kept  out.  Richard  followed  to  the  door 
and  was  waiting  for  the  result  and  the  story. 

When  the  injured  man  recovered  sufficiently,  he 
said  he  could  hardly  tell  what  had  happened;  it  all 
came  so  suddenly,  and  was  the  farthest  from  any 
thought  of  his.  He  was  on  his  way  to  that  very 
drug  store  with  a  prescription  to  be  filled  out,  and 
had  ridden  in  a  downtown  car.  He  was  just  alight- 
ing from  the  car,  when  three  men  approached  him 
and  asked  him  why  he  patronized  a  railroad  run  by 
scabs  and  owned  by  a  bloodthirsty  corporation.  Be- 
fore he  could  even  reply  one  of  them  had  struck  him 
a  blow  which  had  felled  him  to  the  pavement.  Then 
they  instantly  vanished  in  the  darkness.  He  could 
not  tell  how  they  looked.  It  all  happened  so  quickly, 
and,  of  course,  did  not  know  whether  they  were  rail- 
road men  or  what  they  were.  "Oh,"  he  said,  "I  re- 
member, one  of  them  asked  me  if  I  did  not  know  that 
they  had  asked  people  not  to  ride  on  those  cars,  and 
had  warned  them  repeatedly  against  it,  but  of  course 
I  did  not  have  any  chance  to  explain  or  declare  my 
rights  or  apologize  or  anything." 

Everybody  was  expressing  their  indignation 
against  such  a  dastardly  outrage,  but  Henry  never 
said  a  word.  He  completed  his  errand  of  mercy  to 
the  last  letter  of  every  requirement,  and  then  quietly, 
and  even  unseen,  withdrew.  At  the  door  he  found 
Richard   waiting   and   anxious   to   hear   the    story. 


Stopped  by  a  Strange  Question.        23 

Henry  simply  related  the  facts,  but  ventured  no 
opinion,  only  to  say:  "I  am  for  the  laboring  man 
and  labor  union,  first,  last  and  always.  I  believe  in 
a  strike  when  necessary — yes,  this  strike,  but  he  is 
an  enemy  of  his  own  cause  who  strikes  his  fellow." 


CHAPTER  II. 
the;  startling  sermon. 

The  dawn  of  th",  next  morning  carried  the  proph- 
ecy of  one  of  the  brightest  and  most  beautiful  days. 
It  was  a  perfect  October  day,  when  the  whole  earth 
seemed  to  be  touched  with  the  colors  of  another 
world  and  musical  with  the  harmony  of  heaven.  The 
birds  were  vieing  with  each  other  in  their  victorious 
efforts  to  reach  the  highest  notes,  and  even  the  silent 
forces  seemed  to  be  giving  motion  to  the  waves  of 
song  and  joy. 

The  trees  of  the  city  park  and  the  proud  one  at  the 
side  of  the  street  were  clothed  in  the  garments  of 
autumnal  glory,  many  colored  and  royal. 

Twice  during  the  night  Elsie  had  awakened  with 
the  thought  of  the  church  service  in  the  morning,  and 
each  time  struggled  against  her  delight  to  forget  it 
and  become  sleepy  again. 

When  at  last  it  was  daybreak  and  her  eyes  opened 
to  the  clear  sky  and  joyful  earth,  she  brought  her 
hands  together  in  the  familiar  style  of  her  ecstacy, 
and  said  aloud,  "Oh,  I  am  so  glad  I  prayed  last  night 
for  just  this,  and  my  prayer  has  been  answered  j  I 


The  Startling  Sermon.  25 

knew  it  would  be  and  nothing  would  hinder  our 
going." 

Almost  unconsciously  she  fell  upon  her  knees  and 
uttered  the  simplicity  and  sweetness  of  her  pure  grati- 
tude. 

In  the  other  room,  Henry  had  awakened  too,  but 
with  far  different  thoughts  and  feelings.  He  could 
hardly  realize  that  it  was  Sunday  and  that  his  plans 
for  the  day  were  at  such  variance  with  the  several 
years  of  the  past.  He  wondered  whether  he  wanted 
to  go  after  all.  We  are  such  prisoners  of  habit  that 
sometimes  when  we  have  broken  the  iron  bars,  we  do 
not  know  whether  we  want  to  escape  or  not.  Man's 
kingliness  and  divinity  is  in  his  power  of  escape,  and 
becoming  a  free  slave  of  the  better. 

Elsie  called  out  in  her  happy  tone  a  "good-morn- 
ing" and  a  "hurry  up." 

"All  right,"  shouted  he,  "here  goes  for  the  promise 
and  the  sermon." 

Their  breakfast  was  soon  ready  and  the  prepara- 
tion for  church  made. 

Ten  o'clock  came,  but  Richard  had  not  arrived. 
Elsie  began  to  be  restless  and  even  nervous.  She 
walked  to  the  window,  then  into  the  other  room,  and 
said  over  and  over  again,  almost  in  a  prayer :  "Oh,  I 
wish  he  would  come."  She  was  so  fearful  that  his  not 
coming  or  something  else  might  prevent  Henry's  go- 
ing.    He  might  say  that  they  would  be  late,  or  he 


26  The  Startling  Sermon. 

did  not  wish  to  go  without  Richard,  or  a  thousand 
other  excuses  which  flashed  through  her  mind,  but 
he  did  not,  and  when  no  step  was  heard  at  five  min- 
utes past  ten,  Henry  said :  "Come  on,  Elsie,  we  will 
go  down  the  stairs  anyway,  and  possibly  we  will  meet 
him  there.     If  not,  we  will  hurry  on  without  him." 

When  they  came  to  the  street,  he  was  not  there, 
and  they  were  just  returning  toward  the  corner  when 
from  the  opposite  direction  Richard  was  seen  coming, 
walking  and  running  in  a  sort  of  friendly  tangle,  first 
one  and  then  the  other. 

Henry  acted  the  sharp-shooter  and  fired  at  him  at 
long  range : 

"Where  is  your  alarm  clock?" 

"Yes,"  said  Elsie,  "when  you  make  an  engagement 
to  walk  to  church  with  a  young  lady,  and  especially 
under  such  circumstances,  with  a  protector  and  leader 
and  guide,  you  ought  to  be  on  time.  I  rather  ex- 
pected you  to  be  so  happy  about  it  and  so  anxious 
that  you  would  have  been  an  hour  ahead  of  time." 

"Forgive  me  this  once  out  of  seventy  times  seven, 
and  I  will  do  better  next  time,"  said  Richard.  "Real- 
ly, it  was  not  my  fault.     Come  on  and  I  will  explain." 

"Oh,  we  don't  want  any  explanation,"  replied 
Elsie.  "Guilty,  that's  all,  just  guilty,  and  the  penalty 
will  come  some  time." 

"No  mercy?"  asked  he,  as  he  walked  up  to  her  side 
and  to  his  appointed  place. 


The  Startling  Sermon.  27 

"Well,"  answered  Elsie,  "we  will  see  how  good  you 
are,  and  if  you  go  every  Sunday  and  become  so  ac- 
customed to  it  that  you  will  never  be  late  again." 

"I  guess  we  have  time  enough  anyway,"  said 
Henry,  "there  will  be  room  enough.  The  churches 
are  not  so  crowded  in  these  days  that  we  need  fear. 
The  only  question  will  be  whether  Dick  and  I  know 
how  to  walk  in  and  sit  down  and  behave  when  we  get 
there.  Anyhow,  I  am  going  to  lose  my  prejudice 
against  the  ministers  and  churches  for  this  morning, 
and  listen  with  an  honest  purpose.  I  have  thought 
of  that  question  a  thousand  times  since  I  first  saw  it, 
and  I  wonder  just  how  he  is  going  to  answer  it.  I 
think  I  can  answer  it,  but  I  will  wait  until  afterward." 

"There  are  other  things  in  church  service  besides 
the  sermon,"  said  Elsie,  "everybody  ought  to  worship 
God,  and'  I  hope  that  spirit  will  be  in  all  of  us.  It  is 
one  of  the  commands,  and  it  must  be  just  as  wicked 
not  to  keep  that  one  as  not  to  keep  the  others." 

Neither  one  of  her  companions  made  any  reply, 

but  walked  on  in  silence  for  half  a  square,  when 

.  Henry  said  again:    "If  curiosity  is  sinful  then  I  am  a 

sinner,  because  I  will  have  to  confess  most  of  this 

comes  under  that  name. 

The  bulletin  faced  them  at  the  corner  again  as  it 
had  Henry  the  morning  previous.  They  all  glanced 
at  it,  and  hastened  in,  because  the  sound  of  the  organ 
was  heard,  and  the  service  had  already  begun. 


28  The  Startling  Sermon. 

At  the  door  a  friendly  hand  greeted  them  and 
passed  them  on  to  another  man  of  genial  manner  and 
a  smile  of  welcome.  He  ushered  them  to  a  seat  in 
the  best  place  that  was  vacant,  and  it  was  not  so  for- 
mal and  cold  and  funereal  and  unattractive  as  im- 
agination had  pictured  it.  There  was  life  in  the 
music,  light  in  the  building,  sympathy  in  the  prayer, 
earnestness  and  enthusiasm  in  the  spirit. 

David  Dowling  was  not  an  Apollo  in  appearance. 
He  was  neither  striking  in  figure  nor  movement.  Yet 
there  was  something  about  him  that  marked  him  as  a 
man.  He  was  just  in  the  prime  of  life,  with  a  quick, 
vivacious  movement,  a  commanding  attitude,  and 
vigorous  speech.  Five  years  ago  he  had  parted  his 
hair  on  the  left  side ;  two  years  ago  it  was  parted  on 
the  right  side,  and  now  it  was  departed.  His  intel- 
lectual quality  was  strikingly  manifest,  and  yet  it  was 
not  of  the  Arctic  type.  He  lived  in  the  temperate 
zone,  and  almost  near  the  unseen  line  of  the  torrid. 
He  had  a  great  heart  and  knew  the  definition  of  sym- 
pathy. His  pulpit  seemed  to  change  into  a  throne, 
and  the  king  was  in  his  place. 

Henry  and  Richard  both  fastened  their  eyes  upon 
him,  and  it  was  a  look  of  increasing  admiration.  Es- 
pecially was  this  true  when  he  arose  and  announced 
his  text  and  his  subject,  and  declared  his  emphatic 
and  deathless  determination  to  help  the  workingman 
and  bring  him  and  his  Christ  into  their  right  relation 


The  Startling  Sermon.  29 

to  each  other.  He  said:  "I  have  been  criticised 
severely  for  asking-  this  question :  'Would  Christ 
belong  to  a  labor  union?'  Some  have  said  it  was 
sensational.  I  am  glad  it  is.  Sensation  is  life.  It 
has  in  it  the  life  of  to-day.  Shame,  thrice  shame,  upon 
a  dead  church  and  a  dead  preacher  and  a  dead  re- 
ligion. If  the  Church  does  not  touch  the  life  of  the 
people,  build  it  in  the  cemetery  and  call  it  sepulchre. 
If  the  gospel  has  any  meaning,  it  comes  with  tre- 
mendous force  into  every  part  of  human  life.  Christ 
Himself  created  the  greatest  sensation  by  the  subjects 
which  He  treated  and  the  methods  which  He  adopted. 
He  is  an  enemy  of  the  Church  who  whines  and  whim- 
pers over  sensation.  He  is  preparing  himself  for 
death  and  judgment  both.  Some  others  have  said  it 
was  bringing  Christ  down  to  ask  this  question  con- 
cerning Him.  He  brought  Himself  down  to  the  car- 
penter shop  to  save  the  workingman.  God  forbid 
that  we  should  take  Him  out  of  His  chosen  place. 
The  God  of  the  heathen  is  not  my  God.  He  whom  I 
worship  and  adore  and  am  ready  to  die  for  is  Jesus 
of  Bethlehem  and  Nazareth  and  Calvary.  He  conde- 
scended to  the  level  of  every  man's  life  and  work. 
If  He  was  on  earth  to-day  He  would  have  something 
to  say  concerning  the  labor  unions  and  something  to 
do  with  them.  That  is  a  part  of  His  mission,  and  the 
Church  has  been  traitorous  to  the  trust  He  has  placed 
in  it." 


30  The  Startling  Sermon. 

Then,  with  a  long  and  effective  pause,  he  said  in 
the  almost  oppressive  silence  of  the  audience:  "Is 
not  this  the  carpenter?  Jesus  Christ  is  the  best 
friend  the  working-man  ever  had." 

"Did  not  He  stand  by  the  bench  ?  Was  not  every 
nerve  and  muscle  in  His  human  body  weary  with  the 
hardest  toil  ?  Did  He  not  wish  some  days  that  it  was 
six  o'clock  when  it  was  only  three  ? 

"How  could  it  be  possible  that  He  would  not  have 
the  deepest  sympathy  for  the  man  in  the  same  place  ? 
Would  He  not  belong  to  any  organization  for  the  ele- 
vation of  mankind?  Anything  that  is  good  has  the 
co-operation  of  the  Son  of  God. 

"Would  He  belong  to  a  labor  union  to-day?  Let 
any  man  who  says  not  stand  up  and  prove  his  case. 
I  declare  unhesitatingly  that  every  principle,  every 
interest,  every  act  of  the  life  He  lived,  every  line  of 
the  Book  He  inspired,  is  on  the  side  of  toiling  men. 

"The  Church  which  bears  His  name  and  the 
preacher  who  follows  His  example  to-day  must  be  in 
sympathy  with  every  righteous  effort  on  the  part  of 
organized  labor. 

"True  Christianity  must  ever  be  in  closest  sym- 
pathy with  the  working  classes.  It  is  true  that  some 
members  of  the  Church  may  oppress  the  working- 
man  and  have  little  regard  for  the  needs  of  the  poor, 
but  that  is  not  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  nor  what  I 
believe  represents  the  real  heart  of  the  Church, 


The  Startling  Sermon.  31 

"All  members  of  the  labor  union  are  not  true 
friends  of  the  poor,  however.  It  is  conceivable  that 
a  walking  delegate  or  an  official  may  be  friendly  to 
the  laborer  in  order  to  get  and  hold  an  easy  position, 
and  not  be  true  to  his  profession.  It  is  not  just  to 
condemn  a  thousand  men  because  of  the  falsity  of 
one. 

"Christ  taught  and  the  Church  still  works  toward 
the  fatherhood  of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  man. 
He  drove  that  great  truth  into  human  society  with 
every  stroke  of  His  hammer  in  the  shop  of  Nazareth. 

"It  is  an  unadulterated  mistake  on  the  part  of  the 
working  man  to  suppose  that  the  Church  has  lost  this 
spirit.  Most  churches  are  on  his  side,  and  have  a 
royal  welcome  for  the  calloused  hand  that  knocks 
at  their  doors. 

"There  are  hundreds  of  churches  in  the  cities 
which  are  now  half  empty,  and  would  do  anything 
legitimate  to  bring  every  member  of  the  labor  unions 
within  their  doors. 

"I  verily  believe  that  the  same  spirit  is  in  the 
preacher,  and  he  is  giving  sacrificial  blood  to  save  the 
very  men  who  will  not  come  to  hear  him.  The 
Church  is  not  far  away  from  Christ,  nor  is  it  far 
away  from  the  labor  union,  as  wicked  and  unjust 
enemies  are  constantly  declaring. 

"Apart  from  the  Gospel  the  labor  union  would 
never  have  existed   It  was  born  in  the  principles  of 


32  The  Startling  Sermon. 

Christianity  and  rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  Church. 
There  are  no  labor  unions  in  the  jungle  of  Africa. 
There  is  no  Christianity  there. 

"Christ  was  the  author  of  brotherhood.  He  ut- 
tered the  sublimity  of  life,  'Do  unto  others  as  you 
would  that  others  do  unto  you.'  He  taught  'Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.' 

"The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  ought  to  be  the  union's 
creed.  He  gave  the  only  possible  and  practical  solu- 
tion of  the  labor  problem. 

"There  is  a  labor  question.  There  always  has  been. 
It  existed  when  Christ  was  on  the  earth,  only  under 
a  different  form.  At  heart,  it  was  the  same.  It  may  be 
more  exaggerated  now.  The  great  labor  movement 
is  of  modern  times ;  revolts  were  local  in  the  past,  and 
neither  so  widespread  or  continuous  as  to-day.  What 
is  the  purpose  of  this  great  movement  now?  It  is 
simply  to  procure  for  the  laboring  man  a  fuller  and 
more  just  proportion  of  the  things  which  toil  pro- 
duces. Wealth  has  been  marvelously  increased  by 
inventive  genius,  and  the  control  of  natural  forces  and 
riches.  All  men  have  shared  in  these  advantages. 
The  poorest  man  has  that  now  which  the  richest 
could  not  have  one  hundred  years  ago,  but  there  has 
not  been  justice  in  this  division.  The  concentration 
of  wealth  has  also  impaired  the  interest  of  the  work- 
ingman.     This  present  day  movement  on  the  part  of 


The  Startling  Sermon.  33 

labor  seeks  to  level  wages,  shorten  hours,  to  make 
men  less  like  machines,  to  break  the  shackles  of  slaves, 
to  improve  the  sanitary  conditions  of  the  factory  and 
place  of  toil,  to  remove  danger  and  disease  from  their 
environment.  It  seeks  to  protect  women  and  chil- 
dren and  maintain  the  right  to  organize.  This  organ- 
ized effort  has  had  a  marked  and  unquestioned  effect 
in  bringing  wages  at  a  point  of  possible  and  even  com- 
fortable living.  All  this  makes  the  labor  question  a 
burning  issue  at  the  very  heart  of  society.  A  glance 
at  the  unorganized  trade  will  reveal  the  difference. 
The  man  who  has  no  protection  from  an  organiza- 
tion is  at  the  mercy  of  an  employer  who  may  be  a 
tyrant  in  spirit,  and  selfish  to  the  last  degree.  A  man 
is  justified  in  securing  the  men  to  perform  his  work 
as  cheaply  as  possible,  but  it  is  the  business  also  of  the 
workingmen  to  get  as  much  as  possible  for  their 
work.  The  labor  organization  may  be  wrongly 
guided  sometimes,  but  this  is  not  an  argument  against 
its  necessity  or  benefit  either.  In  the  whole  circle  of 
the  years  and  effort,  the  result  has  been  beneficial, 
and  not  only  for  the  laborer  but  for  society  also.  You 
improve  the  condition  of  the  workingmen  by  wages, 
hours  and  opportunity,  and  you  give  greatest  blessing 
to  the  community  in  which  they  live  and  work. 

"There  is  a  labor  question — a  burning  question  at 
the  very  heart  of  society.    It  is  traitorous  to  deny  it. 


34  The  Startling  Sermon. 

The  Gospel  of  the  Carpenter  of  Nazareth  for  the 
labor  union  of  which  He  would  be  a  member  is : 

"Justice  for  the  worker. 

"Liberty  for  society. 

"Salvation  for  the  man. 

"Justice  is  the  supreme  word  in  all  demands  of  the 
labor  unions.  They  have  been  misunderstood  and 
misrepresented.  A  labor  union  has  been  supposed  to 
be  another  word  for  organized  anarchy  and  social- 
ism and  nihilism. 

"Labor  unions  believe  in  law.  One  of  their  most 
righteous  efforts  has  been  to  secure  right  legislation. 
That  is  one  of  their  first  objects. 

"They  do  not  ask  for  sympathy.  No  kingly  man 
takes  the  attitude  of  a  creeping  beggar.  They  are 
not  crying  at  the  door  of  society  for  sympathy.  Nor 
are  they  organized  efforts  to  secure  charity. 

"Labor  unions  do  not  ask  for  the  rich  man's  money 
or  any  other  man's  money,  but  make  just  demands  for 
the  workingman's  money.  They  say :  'Give  us  jus- 
tice in  the  hours  of  work  and  the  remuneration  for 
service  and  the  respect  which  every  honest  man  de- 
serves. We  are  not  cattle,  nor  are  we  machines. 
We  are  men.' 

"And  they  have  knocked  at  the  doors  of  legislative 
halls  and  demanded  laws  to  control  factories  and 
mines  and  every  place  where  men  are  compelled  to 


The  Startling  Sermon.  35 

work,  so  that  life  shall  not  be  imperilled  nor  health 
sacrificed. 

"Wonderful  laws  have  they  wrought  out  in  this 
respect.  It  was  only  a  few  years  ago  that  all  the  laws 
were  made  by  employers,  and  no  one  can  question 
their  partiality.  Now  the  labor  unions,  by  virtue  of 
their  organized  force,  have  been  and  are  able  to  claim 
attention  and  respect  and  representation. 

"I  congratulate  them  upon  their  attainment,  and 
also  upon  the  day  in  which  they  are  living.  The 
workingman  was  never  so  well  off  in  the  history  of 
the  world  as  he  is  to-day. 

"He  has  better  wages,  better  hours,  better  homes, 
better  opportunities,  better  everything.  No  thought- 
ful, honest  man  who  has  been  a  student  of  history 
can  question  that  statement.  Nevertheless  much  re- 
mains to  be  done  in  his  interest,  and  I  bid  him  god- 
speed in  the  securing  of  complete  justice. 

"Justice  is  the  word — do  you  hear  me?  Mistake 
it  not.  Define  it.  Understand  it.  Believe  it.  Live 
it. 

"It  has  the  greatest  circumference  of  any  word  in 
your  vocabulary. 

"  'Give  each  man  his  just  share,'  is  the  battle  cry  of 
the  labor  union.  And  they  ought  to  shout  it  and  fight 
it  until  the  last  enemy  of  labor  lies  dead  on  the  battle- 
field, and  the  last  victory  for  right  is  won. 

"The  Christian  employer  will  always  meet  them  00, 


36  The  Startling  Sermon. 

their  level,  explain  the  condition  of  his  business  and 
ask  their  judgment  concerning  their  just  proportion. 
And  it  has  always  resulted  in  the  same  blessing  of 
harmony  and  mutual  love  and  respect.  This  is  not  a 
dream  nor  even  an  ideal. 

"It  is  a  magnificent  reality. 

"There  is  a  gentleman  in  America  who  employs 
one  thousand  hands.  He  was  asked  some  time  ago 
when  there  was  great  trouble  in  the  labor  market : 

"  'How  are  you  getting  on  with  your  men  ?' 

"  'Oh,'  he  said,  'I  have  no  trouble.' 

"  'Why,'  he  was  asked,  'have  you  not  had  any 
strikes?' 

u  'No,'  he  said,  'in  all  these  years  I  have  not  had 
even  the  shadow  of  trouble  with  my  men.' 

"The  cry  at  the  heart  of  every  good  labor  organiza- 
tion is  not  a  selfish,  grasping,  greedy  yelp.  It  is  the 
soul's  cry  for  simple  justice. 

"The  employer  must  learn  to  recognize  it,  and  see  in 
every  man  some  remnant  of  the  image  and  likeness  of 
God  which  commands  his  respect,  or  there  can  be 
and  there  will  be  no  peace. 

"But  there  is  another  element  which  is  closely  allied 
to  this,  if  not  bound  to  it  by  the  bonds  of  a  holy 
wedlock,  that  is,  liberty  for  employer  and  em- 
ployee, member  of  corporation  and  member  of  labor 
unions,  and  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the  so- 
ciety where  unions  and  corporations  exist. 


The  Startling  Sermon.  37 

"One  of  the  perils  of  the  day  in  which  we  are  living 
is  that  that  priceless  treasure  for  which  our  ancestors 
fought  and  died  shall  be  taken  away  from  us,  even  in 
the  times  which  are  called  peaceful. 

"That  which  we  fought  to  give  the  black  man,  in 
Heaven's  name,  do  not  allow  to  be  snatched  away 
from  our  grasp.  Patrick  Henry's  cry  might  be  ut- 
tered to-day  with  just  as  much  pathos  and  necessity 
in  it  as  the  day  when  it  echoed  along  these  Eastern 
shores  of  a  new  world  and  re-echoed  through  the 
corridors  of  heaven:  'Give  me  liberty  or  give  me 
death!' 

"You  are  free  men.  This  is  the  snap  of  the  slave 
lash  again.  If  a  man  wants  to  belong  to  a  labor  or- 
ganization let  him  belong.  If  he  does  not  let  him 
stay  out.  As  you  value  your  life  keep  your  liberty  to 
say  'no.'  You  are  king  yourself.  Let  no  man  put  a 
manacle  upon  your  hand  or  foot  or  head  or  heart. 

"Society  also  has  interests,  and  sacred  ones,  which 
must  be  taken  into  account.  The  old  blunder  of  pre- 
ferring force  to  moral  agency  is  the  secret  of  failure. 
Men  have  the  right  not  to  work,  but  have  no  right  to 
prevent  other  men  from  taking  their  places. 

"The  public  will  not  tolerate  this  barbarous  method. 
Under  no  conditions  will  they  allow  the  liberties  of 
those  who  desire  to  work  to  be  destroyed.  Neither 
will  they  allow  the  perpetration  of  outrages  upon 
their  own  rights. 


38  The  Startling  Sermon. 

"This  is  not  the  day  when  the  obstinacy  of  a  rail- 
road president  or  the  dissatisfaction  of  a  few  hundred 
workmen  can  hurl  injustice  and  inconvenience  and 
risk  of  life  into  the  centre  of  millions  of  people. 

"Every  question  which  concerns  the  world  of  labor 
is  of  vital  interest  to  Christ  and  the  Church  and  so- 
ciety. Christ  came  to  save  the  individual  man  and 
everything  of  value  to  his  life.  He  came  to  save  him 
for  time  as  well  as  eternity.  Anything  which  helps  in 
this  great  work  of  mankind  and  the  redemption  of 
the  world  would  have  His  assistance  and  blessing. 
He  would  say  again  upon  earth  and  whisper  it  in  the 
soul  of  every  man :  'Come  unto  Me  all  ye  that  labor 
'  and  are  heavy  laden  and  I  will  give  ye  rest.'  " 

As  he  finished,  Henry  anxiously  settled  back  in 
his  seat.  He  had  been  holding  himself  slightly  for- 
ward, and  did  not  know  it.  He  looked  down  at  the 
back  of  the  seat  in  front  of  him,  and  Elsie  could  not 
help  but  look  toward  him  and  wonder. 

She  breathed  a  silent  prayer  that  he  might  be 
pleased  with  the  sermon,  and  that  something  might 
come  into  his  life  that  very  moment  to  change  it. 

He  sat  like  a  statue  until  they  arose  for  the  bene- 
diction. 

When  they  reached  the  street,  each  one  waited  for 
the  other  to  break  the  silence. 

Elsie  could  hardly  hold  back  the  query:     "How 


The  Startling  Sermon.  39 

did  you  like  it?"  But  this  was  a  peculiar  occasion, 
and  she  must  wait. 

At  last  Richard  said : 

"Well,  Henry,  what  did  you  think  of  that?" 

"I  am  glad  I  went,"  replied  Henry. 

"That  is  not  enough,"  said  Richard.  "How  did 
you  like  the  answer  to  your  question  ?" 

"If  I  must  be  honest,"  said  Henry,  "it  was  a  revela- 
tion to  me.  The  Church  may  not  be  as  far  away 
from  us  and  our  interest  as  we  think  it  is.  One 
preacher,  anyway,  is  fair  and  courageous  and  sym- 
pathetic. I  believe  that  if  the  workingmen  could 
hear  that  kind  of  truth,  the  most  of  them  would  be 
in  the  Church  very  soon.  He  did  not  go  as  far  as  I 
wish  he  had,  but  it  was  a  pretty  long  step." 

Elsie's  heart  almost  beat  its  way  through  the  wall 
of  its  prison. 

Richard  walked  on,  waiting  for  some  one  to  ask 
him  what  he  thought,  but  no  one  seemed  very 
anxious  to  know,  so  at  last  he  ventured  to  say : 

"He  has  a  great  deal  of  magnetism  and  oratory  in 
him,  hasn't  he?    You  cannot  help  but  listen." 

"Yes,"  said  Elsie,  "I  don't  believe  it  was  all  in  the 
subject." 

"That  was  not  my  special  interest,  but  I  would 
like  to  hear  him  every  Sunday." 

"Yes,"  said  Henry ;  "he  was  so  honest  and  earnest 
that  everybody  would  be  drawn  toward  him.    I  con- 


40  The  Startling  Sermon. 

fess  that  I  had  lost  some  of  my  prejudice  before  he 
had  begun  his  sermon." 

"Will  you  go  again  ?"  asked  Elsie. 

"I  will  not  make  any  more  promises  now,"  said 
Henry,  "but  Dick  and  I  may  get  the  same  notion 
again  some  day.    Give  this  time  to  digest." 

Richard  said :  "There  is  unquestionably  a  vast 
amount  of  misrepresentation  of  the  Church  and  mis- 
understanding concerning  it,  and  yet  most  of  them 
are  as  indifferent  as  the  stones  in  their  walls  to  the 
wrongs  of  society  and  the  needs  of  man.  Why  don't 
they  all  discuss  these  burning  questions,  and  in  the 
name  of  the  Gospel  they  preach  bring  in  the  liberty 
and  justice  and  salvation  of  which  he  spoke  this 
morning?" 

"Yes,"  said  Henry,  "this  is  the  opportunity  of  the 
Church.  The  working  men  are  not  so  far  away  from 
its  doors,  if  the  Church  people  and  preachers  will  only 
bridge  the  little  chasm.  Sympathy,  interest,  fear- 
lessness, truth  are  the  stones  and  steel  for  that 
bridge." 

"Here  we  are  already,"  said  Elsie,  "but  you  will 
both  have  to  go  again  with  me." 

"You  don't  need  to  urge  me  very  hard,"  said  Rich- 
ard, as  he  extended  his  hand  to  her  and  said,  "Good- 
by." 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  RICH   GIRl/S  SACRIFICE. 

As  soon  as  her  work  was  finished  that  afternoon 
Elsie  hastily  made  preparation  to  go  out. 

Henry  did  not  ask  any  questions,  because  he  knew 
where  she  was  going. 

It  was  often  a  part  of  her  Sunday  to  attend  the 
service  at  the  mission  in  Ninth  street. 

She  was  deeply  interested  in  the  work  they  were 
doing,  but  had  gone  more  as  a  listener  than  a  helper, 
helper. 

She  wished  to-day  that  she  dared  ask  Henry  to  go 
with  her,  but  thought  better  not  to  go  too  far  in  one 
day. 

That  is  often  the  mistake  of  heart  desire  and 
anxiety. 

Zeal  needs  the  bridle  of  tact,  and  love  is  better  in 
the  companionship  of  wisdom. 

In  her  delight  over  the  morning's  experience  she 
almost  stepped  upon  the  jewel  and  crushed  it. 

An  unseen  angel  clasped  her  hand  and  led  her  the 
right  way. 

It  was  a  quick  farewell  and  a  look  of  affection,  and 
she  was  gone. 

Henry  called  after  her: 


42  A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice. 

"If  I  am  not  here  when  you  come  back,  I  will  be 
safe.  I  expect  Richard,  and  we  will  be  out  some- 
where this  fine  day." 

After  a  musical  "all  right"  had  sounded  back, 
Henry  said  to  himself  and  almost  aloud : 

"What  a  sweet,  simple,  sincere  girl  she  is.  I  am 
glad  I  had  her  come  and  give  me  the  chance  to  sac- 
rifice for  her.  She  has  her  own  temptations  and 
burdens,  but  knows  how  to  meet  them  and  carry 
them.  Her  Christianity  is  real.  It  means  some- 
thing in  her  life." 

He  arose,  and,  with  hands  behind  his  head,  gave  a 
Sunday  afternoon  yawn,  and  said : 

"If  there  is  no  other  proof  on  earth,  here  is  one  bit 
of  logic  that  stands  the  test.  Yes,  if  it  is  good  for 
her,  perhaps  it  is  all  my  own  fault  that  it  has  lost 
its  power  over  me.  The  sun  cannot  make  a  garden 
in  a  cellar." 

How  unconscious  she  was  of  this  irresistible  influ- 
ence over  her  brother,  but  that  is  the  method  of  influ- 
ence and  the  way  of  real  Christian  character  every- 
where. 

Elsie  had  reached  the  mission  and  taken  her  usual 
place  near  the  door,  waiting  to  be  of  any  service  in 
teaching  a  class  or  as  a  listener  in  the  Bible  class, 
when,  to  her  astonishment,  who  should  walk  past  her 
and  up  toward  the  front  of  the  small  room  but  the 
Rev.  David  Dowling. 


A  Rich  GirPs  Sacrifice.  43 

She  wondered  what  brought  him  there,  what  rela- 
tion he  had  with  the  work,  and  a  whole  chain  of 
questions. 

She  had  been  there  several  times,  but  never  saw 
him  before. 

He  walked  to  the  platform,  and  sat  down  in  a  va- 
cant chair  by  the  side  of  the  superintendent. 

She  noticed  how  he  smiled  to  this  one  and  nodded 
to  another  near  him,  and  also,  as  he  passed  through 
the  room,  how  he  touched  with  his  hand  of  love  a 
little  curly  headed  boy,  and  thus  created  another 
smile  in  the  world. 

The  recognition  was  instant,  and  a  child's  heart 
enlarged  to  welcome  new  joy. 

Elsie  thought  "he  is  just  like  his  sermon ;  he  is  a 
practicing  preacher.  If  Henry  could  only  meet  him 
and  know  him." 

She  whispered  to  some  one  who  sat  near  her,  and 
asked  if  Mr.  Dowling  came  there  very  often. 

"Oh,  yes,"  was  the  reply.  "You  know  this  is  a 
mission  of  his  church." 

Elsie  gave  a  look  of  surprise  and  a  nod  of  thanks. 

She  almost  forgot  to  give  her  attention  to  what 
was  going  on  about  her,  so  absorbed  was  she  with 
her  own  thoughts. 

"Isn't  this  strange ;  what  a  peculiar  coincidence, 
though  I  am  just  as  glad  as  I  can  be.  I  want  to 
meet  him,  and  perhaps  this  is  the  opportunity." 


44  A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice. 

Just  then  some  one  approached  her,  and  asked  if 
she  would  not  teach  a  class  of  boys  only  for  this 
afternoon. 

It  was  but  a  momentary  hesitation  on  her  part 
when  the  consent  was  given. 

She  sat  down  right  in  the  centre  of  the  unattractive 
group  and  tried  to  win  their  attention  and  their 
hearts. 

She  could  win  almost  anybody,  but  an  angel  di- 
rect from  heaven  and  commissioned  to  secure  the  at- 
tention and  affection  of  a  class  of  boys  in  a  mission 
school  might  have  to  go  back  and  report  failure. 

It  was  a  tension  upon  her  nerves,  and  a  strain 
upon  her  patience. 

She  never  had  such  a  time  as  this  afternoon.  She 
had  tried  it  before,  and  with  some  measure  of  suc- 
cess. 

There  was  one  boy  with  unwashed  hands  and  even 
some  remnants  of  last  week  upon  his  face.  His  hair 
was  uncombed  and  uncut.  His  clothing  was  not 
ragged,  but  might  have  been  even  that  with  improve- 
ment. He  seemed  to  be  just  possessed  with  an  evil 
desire,  and  almost  determination.  He  would  not 
listen,  nor  would  he  sit  still ;  more  than  that,  he  and 
one  or  two  others  were  pinching  and  pushing  the 
ones  next  to  them,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  make 
paper  balls  out  of  their  lesson  leaflets  and  throw 
them  across  the  room. 


A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice.  45 

In  her  heart  she  kept  saying,  "What  shall  I  do  ?" 
and  she  might  as  well  have  said  it  in  audible  lan- 
guage, for  they  knew  what  she  was  saying,  and  only 
increased  her  trouble. 

She  was  wishing  and  almost  praying  that  no  one 
would  see  her  and  the  class,  and  that  the  bell  would 
soon  ring  for  the  lesson  to  close,  but  the  minutes 
were  so  long,  and  still  she  talked  on. 

She  tried  to  tell  them  stories  outside  of  the  day's 
lesson  to  interest  and  attract  attention,  but  with- 
out avail. 

Some  one  was  a  witness  of  her  task  and  the  tax  up- 
on her  courage.    Mr.  Dowling  stood  at  her  side : 

"I  want  to  meet  you  and  know  you.  I  don't  think 
I  have  seen  you  here  before,  but  I  am  so  glad  that 
you  are  in  this  noble  service." 

She  told  him  she  had  been  there  before,  but  not  a 
regular  attendant.  She  added  that  she  had  been 
anxious  to  meet  him. 

"Before  the  school  is  over,"  said  he,  "I  want  your 
name  and  address,  and  now  I  would  like  to  see  one 
of  your  boys  for  a  moment." 

While  he  was  saying  it  he  took  the  very  one  by 
the  hand  who  had  been  the  cause  of  most  of  the 
trouble,  and  led  him  to  a  side  seat  and  sat  down  by 
him,  placed  his  arm  around  him  and  began  whisper- 
ing to  him. 


46  A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice. 

Elsie  could  not  hear  what  he  was  saying,  but  s"he 
knew. 

He  was  making  it  easier  for  her  or  somebody  else 
the  next  time. 

What  a  holy  mission  that  is  on  earth,  preparing 
the  way  for  Christ  or  one  of  Christ's  followers. 

The  superintendent  had  done  a  different  work  that 
afternoon. 

He  had  taken  two  of  the  scholars  in  another  class 
right  out  of  their  chairs  and  pushed  them  through 
the  doorway,  as  he  said : 

"When  you  can  behave  come  back,  and  not  be- 
fore." 

Perhaps  both  ways  were  right  and  accomplished 
the  object,  but  the  first  method  seemed  the  most  like 
Christ,  and  to  have  the  greatest  saving  force  in  it.  It 
was  harder,  but  that  is  a  part  of  Calvary. 

Just  at  the  close  of  the  school  the  superintendent 
said: 

"We  are  always  glad  to  hear  from  our  pastor,  and 
I  wonder  if  he  has  not  something  to  say  to-day." 

There  was  silence  as  he  arose,  as  there  always  was. 
He  said: 

"I  was  reading  this  last  week  of  a  beautiful  Chris- 
tian young  lady  who  wanted  to  teach  in  Sunday 
school,  and  there  was  no  class  for  her.  The  leader 
told  her  to  bring  her  own  class,  and  he  would  find 
a  place  for  them.    That  week  she  found  a  ragged  boy 


A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice.  47 

on  the  street,  asked  him  to  come  to  her  home,  told 
him  she  would  give  him  some  new  clothing  if  he 
would  go  to  Sunday  school  with  her  the  following 
Sunday.    He  promised  her  he  would. 

"The  first  Sunday  he  was  the  only  scholar;  the 
next  Sunday  he  was  the  only  scholar,  and  the  third 
Sunday  he  was  not  there  at  all. 

"She  did  not  give  him  up,  but  found  him,  and 
found  the  clothes  were  being  used  for  every  day,  and 
almost  worn  out  already. 

"She  tried  him  three  times  with  clothes,  and  her 
heart's  best  love,  but  he  seemed  to  be  bad,  and  only 
bad,  and  her  work  a  failure.  She  told  the  superin- 
tendent so,  and  said  she  must  give  him  up.  'There 
was  not  anything  in  him ;  he  was  deceitful  and  mean, 
and  they  better  let  him  go/ 

"  'No,'  said  he,  'try  him  once  more.' 

"She  did,  and  in  the  very  spirit  of  Christ  stayed 
by  her  task*    An  angel  could  do  no  more. 

"That  boy,"  said  Mr.  Dowling,  "was  Dr.  Robert 
Morrison,  the  first  and  great  missionary  to  China. 
Mighty  on  earth  and  mighty  in  heaven!  How  do 
you  teachers  know  what  you  have  been  doing  to- 
day?" 

Elsie  knew  he  meant  her,  and  thought : 

"I  will  try  it  again  if  they  want  me  to,  and  the  very- 
same  class,  too." 


48  A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice. 

As  soon  as  the  school  was  dismissed,  Mr.  Dowling 
was  at  her  side,  and  asked  for  her  name  and  address. 

He  was  waiting  to  write  it,  but  she  had  already 
written  it  upon  a  slip  of  paper  and  handed  it  to 
him. 

"Where  is  your  church  home?"  he  said. 

"Well,"  she  replied,  "I  hardly  know  what  to  say. 
I  have  not  been  in  the  city  very  long,  and  have  not 
brought  my  letter  to  any  church  yet.  I  have  been 
to  several  different  churches,  but  was  to  yours  this 
morning,  and  liked  it  very  much." 

"I  suppose  you  came  there  because  of  your  being 
to  the  mission  before?" 

She  hastened  to  reply,  but  he  interrupted  her  by 
asking: 

"Where  is  your  old  home?" 

"In  Vermont,"  she  answered. 

"What  part  of  it?" 

She  told  him,  and  a  look  of  surprise  and  mingled 
delight  passed  over  his  face  as  he  said : 

"Why,  I  was  brought  up  near  there  myself.  Of 
course,  I  have  not  lived  there  for  many  years,  still 
everything  about  that  part  of  the  country  is  familiar 
to  me.  That  makes  me  more  interested  in  you. 
Now,  I  cannot  talk  to-day,  but  I  am  coming  to  call 
on  you  when  you  are  home.  Yes,  if  you  want  me  to, 
I  will  come  this  week.  Let  me  see.  I  can  call  for  a 
few  moments  to-morrow  evening." 


A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice.  49 

"You  will  be  welcome,"  said  Elsie. 

She  wondered,  and  even  partially  sighed,  as  she 
thought : 

"We  have  so  little,  and  in  such  a  small  place,  I  am 
almost  ashamed  to  have  him  come." 

He  walked  away,  came  back  in  a  moment,  and 
said: 

"Before  I  go  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  one  of 
our  noblest  young  ladies,  and  one  of  the  best  work- 
ers in  my  church,  also  in  the  mission  here,  and  every- 
where in  the  city.  She  is  a  very  rich  girl,  the  daugh- 
ter of  one  of  the  greatest  manufacturers  in  the  coun- 
try, but  she  sacrifices  everything  for  Christ  and  the 
good  of  others.  I  am  sure  you  will  be  glad  to  know 
her." 

He  turned,  and  motioned  to  a  young  woman  near 
by  to  come  that  way.  As  she  approached,  Elsie  saw 
an  expression  of  character  the  like  of  which  she  had 
rarely,  if  ever,  seen. 

Her  features  seemed  to  be  the  marks  of  Christ. 
She  was  graceful  in  form  and  move.  She  carried  a 
certain  charm  which  changed  an  introduction  into  a 
long  acquaintance. 

It  takes  fifty  years  of  introduction  for  some  people. 
It  takes  fifty  seconds  for  others. 

Familiarity  and  companionship  always  cost  much 
if  they  are  valuable,  but  it  comes  more  quickly  in 
some  instances  than  in  others. 


50  A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice. 

Elsie's  first  thought  was :  "What  a  chasm  between 
my  condition  and  hers,"  but  condition  is  not  char- 
acter, and  the  bridge  was  speedily  swung  across. 

Mr.  Dowling  hastened  away  after  the  mere  men- 
tion of  their  names  to  each  other. 

Grace  Chalmers  and  Elsie  Fielding  had  little  in 
common  except  their  devotion  to  Christ  and  a 
worthy  ideal  for  life. 

Elsie  could  compete  with  her  in  that  respect. 

Character  is  the  queen's  throne,  an  ideal  is  the 
golden  sceptre  in  her  hand. 

Movement  toward  a  high  ideal  is  the  act  almost  of 
divinity,  even  if  the  most  of  time  is  passed  in  the  nar- 
row circle  of  two  small  rooms.  Moving  away  from 
the  ideal  is  at  once  the  tragedy  and  pathos  of  life. 

They  paused  a  moment  in  conversation  and  en- 
tered into  sympathy  with  each  other  concerning  the 
hard  problem  of  a  class  of  boys,  for  Miss  Chalmers 
had  experienced  just  about  the  same  trouble  as  Elsie 
had. 

As  they  moved  toward  the  door,  she  said  to  Miss 
Fielding : 

"Which  way  do  you  go  ?" 

Elsie  told  her  with  some  shadow  of  hesitancy.  She 
was  not  proud,  but  she  was  human. 

"I  am  going  that  way  myself,"  said  she.  "At  least, 
a  part  of  the  way,  and  you  will  have  to  let  me  go  with 
you." 


A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice.  51 

As  they  walked  on,  she  said : 

"I  think  I  saw  you  in  church  this  morning.  You 
sat  right  behind  us,  and  as  I  turned  around  after 
the  service  I  caught  sight  of  you,  and  I  think  there 
was  a  young  gentleman  with  you." 

"Yes,"  replied  Elsie,  "there  were  two  of  them. 
My  brother  and  a  friend  of  his.  I  remember  you, 
too,  but,  of  course,  never  thought  of  meeting  you 
again,  and,  in  fact,  I  was  a  stranger  to  everybody 
there.  That  was  the  first  time,  and  I  did  not  know 
until  to-day  that  the  mission  belonged  to  that 
church."  ' 

"How  did  you  like  the  church?" 

"Oh,  very  much,"  replied  Elsie.  "I  couldn't  tell 
much  about  the  building  and  the  music,  because  it 
was  the  sermon  that  especially  interested  us.  My 
brother  was  very  anxious  to  have  that  question  an- 
swered." 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Chalmers,  "we  were  all  interest- 
ed in  it,  and  I  think  this  sermon  was  good  and  the 
subject  ought  to  be  talked  about,  but  my  father, 
while  he  does  not  say  much,  I  know  feels  that  the 
pulpit  better  leave  such  questions  alone.  Of  course, 
he  is  a  little'out  of  sympathy  with  some  of  the  views 
brought  out  this  morning.  He  is  a  manufacturer, 
and  that  is  a  standpoint  he  declares  different  from 
the  pulpit.  He  says  the  ministers  do  not  understand 
the  situation  and  the  difficulties.    They  are  in  danger 


52  A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice. 

of  allowing  their  sympathies  to  run  away  with  their 
judgment.  If  they  had  a  few  strikes  on  their  hands, 
they  might  be  able  to  preach  upon  the  labor  ques- 
tion. He  said  when  we  reached  home  this  noon  that 
when  he  went  to  church  he  wanted  to  hear  the  Gos- 
pel and  not  any  discussion  of  the  labor  unions,  but 
I  am  glad  that  Mr.  Dowling  has  the  courage  to  face 
the  employers  and  speak  the  truth  to  them  as  well 
as  everybody  else.  He  does  not  hesitate  or  stop  for 
anybody.  All  get  treated  alike  with  him,  and  he  says 
if  the  Gospel  means  anything  it  means  the  solution 
of  the  labor  question,  and  all  other  questions,  and  he 
is  commissioned  of  Heaven  to  bring  the  principles 
of  Christianity  to  bear  upon  every  part  of  human  so- 
ciety. He  is  a  noble  man,  and  does  not  bend  his 
principle  for  anybody  or  anything.  It  hurts  some- 
times, but  he  says :  'The  truth  Jesus  uttered  had  the 
same  effect.'  " 

Just  then  Elsie  could  not  have  been  more  aston- 
ished had  an  earthquake  shaken  the  stones  beneath 
her  feet.  They  were  at  the  corner,  and  from  the 
other  street  came  Henry  and  Richard,  as  if  it  had 
been  timed  by  the  watch. 

They  came  face  to  face  with  them. 

Elsie  recovered  instantly  from  her  surprise,  and 
said : 

"Well,  I  didn't  expect  to  meet  you,  but  I  am  glad 
I  did,  because  I  want  to  make  Miss  Chalmers  ac- 


A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice.  53 

quainted  with  my  brother  and  his  friend,  Mr.  Hard- 
ing." 

There  was  a  look  in  Henry  Fielding's  eye  which 
only  he  who  is  skilled  in  reading  character  and  un- 
derstanding the  vast  meaning  in  a  glance  or  single 
expression  could  understand,  or  would  even  notice. 
Some  new  element  of  life  had  suddenly  appeared  and 
crossed  his  pathway.    Was  it  an  angel  ? 

After  a  moment's  conversation  Grace  said  she  had 
been  delighted  to  meet  them,  but  must  hasten  home- 
ward, as  this  was  her  corner. 

She  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  Flower  ave- 
nue, where  her  home  stood  among  those  of  the  rich. 

"Well,"  said  Henry,  "where  did  you  find  her?" 

"Oh,  I  have  had  the  strangest  experiences  this  af- 
ternoon ;  but  first  tell  me  if  you  do  not  think  she  has 
a  beautiful  way." 

"Yes,  and  even  a  beautiful  face." 

"Yes,"  replied  Richard,  "but  you  didn't  give  us 
time  enough  to  take  in  the  situation  or  the  beauty, 
either." 

"That's  right,"  said  Henry,  "before  I  recovered 
from  being  startled  and  stunned,  she  was  gone. 
Who  is  she,  anyway?" 

"She  is  one  of  the  richest  girls  in  the  city,"  said 
Elsie,  with  a  faint  desire  to  tease  and  increase  curi- 
osity. 

"What  nonsense,"  said  Henry.    "You  will  have  to 


54  A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice. 

tell  us  where  you  met  her,  and  all  about  her,  before 
we  believe  such  a  story  as  that ;  what  can  you  have 
to  do  with  one  of  the  richest  girls  in  the  city  ?  We 
must  have  gone  to  the  planet  of  Mars  if  we  have 
been  introduced  to  a  rich  girl.  That  is  not  our  so- 
ciety on  the  earth." 

"Oh,"  said  Elsie,  "I  do  not  believe  the  rich  and 
the  poor  are  so  far  apart  as  it  is  pictured  sometimes. 
Character  and  education  and  ambition — yes,  real 
Christianity,  are  bringing  them  nearer  together.  It 
is  just  as  true  as  I  said  it.  That  is  Grace  Chalmers ; 
she  is  rich,  and  her  father  is  a  great  manufacturer. 
They  sat  right  in  front  of  you  in  church  this  morn- 
ing, and — and ' 

"Hold  on,  hold  on,"  said  both  voices  at  the  same 
time,  "that  is  enough,  give  us  the  explanation.  The 
facts  seem  like  ghosts  ;  put  the  clothes  of  reality  upon 
them,"  continued  Henry. 

"Who  else  do  you  think  I  met  this  afternoon?" 
was  the  only  answer  Elsie  made. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Henry,  "tell  us  about  the  first 
case  first." 

They  had  now  reached  the  door,  and  Henry  said : 

"Come  up,  Dick ;  you  will  have  to  hear  the  rest  of 
this  strange  story." 

"The  rest  of  it,"  said  he.  "I  have  not  heard  any 
of  it  yet,  but  here  goes  for  the  end  of  the  chapter." 


A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice.  55 

When  they  reached  the  rooms,  they  both  declared 
that  Elsie  had  delayed  and  tantalized  enough. 

"Now  out  with  the  whole  thing,"  said  Henry. 

"Yes,  not  take  off  hat  or  anything  else;  sit  right 
there,"  said  he,  and  make  this  startling  revelation." 

Then  she  told  him  of  her  amazement  at  seeing 
David  Dowling  come  into  the  mission,  of  his  pleas- 
ing manner,  of  the  light  and  joy  he  seemed  to  carry. 
She  related  her  trouble  with  the  class  and  his  er- 
rand of  love  and  kindness  to  her,  and  the  unman- 
ageable boy,  also  the  story  he  told  the  school,  and 
how  she  knew  it  was  all  for  her  sake. 

Then  came  the  most  interesting  part  of  it,  and  not 
a  word  had  been  said  by  her  listeners  up  to  that 
point,  and  neither  ventured  a  question  now,  only 
with  their  eyes. 

They  looked  toward  each  other  with  an  expression 
of  wonder  if  it  was  all  so,  and  yet  if  Elsie  told  it, 
they  knew  it  must  be  true  to  the  letter. 

Then  she  went  back  in  her  story  to  tell  how  he  had 
asked  her  name  and  address,  and  after  the  service 
she  had  to  give  it  to  him ;  also  of  his  saying  that  he 
was  coming  to  call. 

Now  a  bright  smile  played  on  Richard's  face,  and 
he  said : 

"Henry,  that  is  for  you.  You  will  meet  the  parson 
now,  and  be  good  again." 

"Nonsense,"  replied  Henry.    "I  have  been  once, 


56  A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice. 

but  have  not  promised  to  go  again,  and  I  do  promise 
to  be  away  if  I  know  when  he  is  coming  to  see  El- 
sie.   But  how  about  this  rich  girl?" 

"He  called  her  over  to  where  I  was  standing  and 
introduced  her  to  me,  and  left  us  to  talk  a  moment, 
and  then  to  walk  home  together." 

"How  do  you  know  about  her  father  and  her 
money,  and  the  seat  in  the  church,  and  all  that?" 

"He  told  me  a  part  of  it,  and  she  told  me  the  rest. 
Of  course,  Mr.  Dowling  gave  me  the  information 
about  her  wealth,  and  he  also  said  she  had  the  great- 
est riches  of  character;  that  she  was  one  of  the 
noblest  young  women  in  the  city,  so  pure  in  heart 
and  unselfish  in  life.  She  was  interested  in  every 
good  work,  and  loved  to  help  the  poor  and  work  for 
them  in  the  mission  and  everywhere." 

"She  must  be  an  exception,"  said  Henry.  "I  don't 
believe  she  moves  in  a  large  circle  of  her  kind.  That 
class  of  people  are  few  in  this  city.  Most  of  those 
with  money  are  just  living  for  themselves.  What  do 
they  care  for  the  suffering  and  sorrowing  and  starv- 
ing poor?  They  are  as  far  away  from  them  as  if 
they  lived  in  China." 

"You  must  remember,"  said  Elsie,  "that  China  is 
not  very  far  away,  and  all  people  in  this  world  come 
closer  to  each  other  than  they  think.  You  may  be 
right,  and  yet  partially  wrong,  Henry.  There  is  not 
such  a  great  gulf  between  the  working  people  and 


A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice.  57 

those  with  money.   It  is  possible  to  cross  from  one 
side  to  the  other,  anyway,  and  some  of  the  rich  people 
are  doing  more  than  anybody  knows,  except  God.    I 
was  reading  in  the  paper  only  yesterday  of  a  poor 
woman  who  attempted  suicide  by  jumping  from  the 
pier.     She  held  her  starving  child  to  her  bosom. 
They  rescued  her,  more  dead  than  alive,  and  carried 
her  to  the  hospital.    In  the  night  she  died,  and  that 
next  afternoon  one  of  the  richest  ladies  in  the  city, 
the  wife  of  one  of  the  largest  business  men  in  Amer- 
ica, came  with  her  carriage  to  get  the  orphan  and 
crippled  child,  and  care  for  it  as  her  own.    Was  not 
that  Christ-like?     Even  Jesus  could  not  do  better 
with  money  than  that,  and  that  is  only  one  of  thou- 
sands of  like  cases,  I  believe." 

"That  is  good  to  say,  and  rather  sweet  to  think," 
said  Henry;  but,  Elsie,  you  don't  see  and  know 
what  I  do.  That  is  only  a  drop  in  the  great  ocean 
of  want  and  wrong." 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  replied  she,  "I  still  believe 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  good  in  this  world,  and  some 
unselfishness  among  the  well-to-do  class." 

"Some  is  a  good  word,  sister,"  said  Henry;  "but 
what  more  do  you  know  about  Miss  Chalmers?" 

"Ah,"  said  Richard,  "that  question  is  a  window. 
The  light  is  in  Henry's  heart  now.  That  shows 
where  his  interest  is.  I  thought  he  would  not  care 
whether  there  was  any  woman  in  the  world  besides 


58  A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice. 

his  sister  and  mother,  and  now  he  is  suddenly 
changed.    What  will  not  an  hour  do?" 

"More  than  run  the  minute  hand  around  the  face 
of  a  clock,"  answered  Henry. 

"How  strangely  circumstances  change  and  things 
work  out  in  this  world,"  said  Elsie.  "Wasn't  it  a 
peculiar  thing  that  I  should  meet  these  very  people 
whom  we  saw  and  heard  this  morning,  and  I  not 
know  that  the  mission  had  anything  to  do  with  the 
church  to  which  Henry  was  taking  us?  Anyway,  I 
am  just  delighted,  and  I  am  going  to  that  church  all 
the  time  now,  and  do  more  in  the  mission,  too,  than 
I  have  done.     This  has  been  a  new  day  in  my  life." 

"It  seems  like  one  in  mine,  too,"  said  Henry. 

"I  belong  to  the  family,  Elsie  says,  and  it  must  be 
in  mine,  too,"  said  Richard. 

"Was  her  father  at  church  this  morning,  I  won- 
der," said  Henry.  "He  probably  does  not  go  to 
church,  or  the  preacher  would  not  ask  that  question 
in  his  sermon,  and  answer  it  as  he  did." 

"Yes,  he  was  there,"  said  Elsie ;  "his  daughter  told 
me  so." 

"Well,  I  think  more  of  that  minister  than  I  did 
before.  I  supposed  he  was  like  all  the  rest  of  them, 
afraid  to  speak  the  truth  unless  it  pleased  the  people 
who  paid  his  salary." 

"I  do  not  think  you  need  look  at  Mr.  Dowling 
more  than  once,"  said  Elsie,  "to  know  that  he  has 


A  Rich  Girl's  Sacrifice.  59 

the  courage  of  his  convictions  and  would  speak  any 
time  and  any  place  what  he  believed  God  told  him  to 
say." 

"I  believe  that,  too,"  said  Richard.  "I  like  to 
agree  with  your  sister,  Henry,  on  general  principles, 
but  in  this  she  is  certainly  right.  I  believe  the  man 
who  preached  that  sermon  this  morning  is  both 
honest  and  heroic.  Your  world  and  mine  is  changed 
somewhat  by  it,  and  if  that  kind  of  sermons  were 
preached  in  every  pulpit,  with  backbone  and  heart 
and  blood  in  them  as  well  as  brain,  the  churches 
would  be  crowded  and  society  would  be  saved.  The 
enmity  between  classes  and  the  fighting  between  em- 
ployers and  employees  would  cease.  Men  who  do 
not  go  to  church  are  not  necessarily  totally  bad  and 
destitute  of  all  conscience  and  religion.  They  want 
to  have  the  truth  given  application  to  the  burning 
questions  of  the  day.  Don't  you  think,  Henry,  that 
most  men  in  our  factory  have  respect  for  Chris- 
tianity and  a  belief  in  it,  and  even  respect  for  the 
Church;  but  they  don't  believe  in  the  present  cold 
and  impractical  methods  of  pulpit  platitudes." 

"Yes,"  said  Henry,  "David  Dowling  is  on  the 
right  track,  and  we  will  go  again." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  STORMY   NIGHT  IN   UNION   NO.    10. 

"You  will  have  to  make  haste  with  me  to-night, 
Elsie,"  was  the  way  Henry  greeted  his  sister  the 
following  evening,  as  he  rushed  in  from  work,  and 
at  once  began  hurried  proceedings  to  get  ready  to 
go  out  again. 

"What  makes  you  in  such  a  rush  to-night?"  she 
asked.  "Is  there  something  unusual  at  your  meet- 
ing?" 

'"Yes,"  he  replied,  "we  expect  a  stormy  night  over 
the  treatment  of  the  street  car  men  who  are  out  on 
a  strike,  and  besides,  we  are  threatened  with  a  lock- 
out ourselves." 

"Well,  you  need  not  go  on  such  a  run  through  the 
house,  and  through  your  supper.  You  will  have  am- 
ple time." 

"No,  I  have  not,"  he  answered;  "there  are  some 
things  which  I  want  to  arrange  before  the  hour,  and 
I  am  on  a  committee  which  meets  a  half  hour  pre- 
vious to  the  regular  meeting." 

"Oh,  Henry,  I  believe  you,  and  always  believe 
you,"  with  a  bright  flash  in  her  eye,  and  a  smile  dart- 
ing across  her  face,  "but  I  just  happened  to  think  of 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      61 

something,  and  I  know  you  have  thought  of  it,  and 
that  is  the  secret  of  your  hurry  to-night.  The 
other  may  be  in  it,  but  this  is  in  it,  too.  Come  on, 
the  table  is  all  ready,  and  I  will  do  my  part  to  make 
no  mistake  in  the  schedule  time.  If  the  train  is  late, 
it  will  not  be  my  fault." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  your  conundrum?" 
queried  Henry. 

"Oh,  you  know." 

"No,  I  don't;  and  that  answer  is  neither  a  black 
one  nor  a  white  one." 

"Just  think  a  moment  while  you  are  loosening  your 
collar  button." 

"Do  you  mean  the  preacher's  coming  here?"  asked 
he. 

She  laughed,  and  said : 

"That  is  the  old  way  of  crawling  out.  Asking  a 
question,  and  in  the  interrogation  mark  is  the  whole 
story.  You  are  just  trying  to  get  out  before  he 
comes." 

She  did  not  say  it,  but  could  not  help  wishing 
something  would  break,  or  Mr.  Dowling  would 
come  earlier,  or  almost  anything  so  that  he  would 
meet  Henry  before  he  went. 

"You  are  not  blind,  Elsie.  To  tell  the  truth,  I 
am  quite  willing  to  be  down  the  stairs  and  about  a 
block  away  when  he  gets  here.  I  have  not  anything 
against  him,  but  a  great  deal  now  in  his  favor.    Yet 


6z      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

a  minister  is  not  just  my  kind,  and  I  would  as  soon 
be  necessarily  absent.  You  are  a  church  girl,  and 
can  talk  all  evening  with  him.  I  have  not  anything 
in  common,  you  know,  and  you  can  give  my  re- 
grets. I  don't  know  just  what  I  mean  by  that,  but 
you  give  it  just  the  same." 

Henry  followed  to  the  letter  the  prescription  for 
dyspepsia,  and  swallowed  his  food  without  injury  to 
its  form  or  feelings,  and  quickly  finished  his  dress  by 
throwing  on  his  coat  and  hat  at  the  same  time. 

He  started  to  the  door,  and  was  saying  good-night 
to  Elsie,  when  there  was  a  footstep  in  the  hall,  and 
a  careful  rap  at  the  door. 

Elsie  understood  that  strange  and  expressive  look 
upon  Henry's  face — almost  a  startled  appearance. 

She  said :    "Open  the  door." 

As  he  did,  a  ringing  voice,  laden  with  joy,  said : 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Fielding ;  I  have  not  met  you, 
but  I  know  you.  Anybody  could  tell  that  you  were 
the  brother  whom  your  sister  told  me  about." 

Henry  was  embarrassed  for  a  moment,  but  quick- 
ly recovered  to  say : 

"Come  in ;  you  are  very  welcome ;  of  course,  I 
know  who  you  are,  too.    I  have  seen  you  before." 

Elsie  immediately  arose  to  greet  him,  and  offer 
him  their  best  chair. 

"You  will  have  to  excuse  me  for  coming  so  early, 
because  when  I  promised  you  to  call  I  forgot  that  I 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      63 

had  another  engagement  for  the  evening  which  I 
could  not  break,  and  so  came  here  for  a  moment  on 
my  way." 

Henry  was  waiting,  and  almost  holding  his  breath 
to  get  the  first  opportunity  to  say :  "You  will  have 
to  accept  my  apology  for  going,  because  I  was  on 
my  way  to  the  door  just  as  you  came." 

At  last  he  said  it,  and  added :  "I  suppose  that  does 
not  make  any  difference,  because  you  came  to  see  my 
sister,  anyway,  and  not  me." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Mr.  Dowling,  emphatically.  "I 
know  about  you,  and  rather  think  it  was  as  much 
for  you,  if  not  more." 

He  was  quick  to  read  character  and  look  through 
the  surface  of  circumstances.  He  knew  what  would 
please  Elsie  best,  and  at  the  same  time  be  at  least  a 
silk  thread  around  Henry,  whom  he  was  already 
anxious  to  take  as  a  prisoner  for  Christ. 

No  one  knew  how  his  heart  went  out  to  save  men, 
especially  young  men  away  from  home  and  away 
from  God. 

Whenever  he  saw  a  noble-looking  fellow  like 
Henry  outside  of  the  Church,  and  a  good,  honest 
purpose  in  his  soul,  he  said :  "It  seemed  as  if  Cal- 
vary was  upon  him." 

The  people  who  only  heard  him  preach  did  not 
get  into  the  secret  of  his  life.  Sometimes  even  his 
methods  and  subjects  of  sermons  and  utterances  were 


64      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

misunderstood  and  criticised,  and  even  condemned, 
yet  through  everything  he  did  and  said  there  ran  the 
one  purpose — to  help  fulfill  the  holy  mission  of  his 
Saviour. 

He  could  begin  a  sermon  almost  anywhere,  but 
he  never  failed  to  end  it  at  the  Cross. 

The  moment  he  saw  Henry  Fielding  he  detected  a 
man  for  whom  Christ  died,  and  worthy  of  his  best 
efforts.  Henry's  apparent  anxiety  to  go  only  made 
him  more  anxious  to  reach  him  in  some  way,  and 
he  felt  that  it  was  not  to  be  a  task  marked  impossible. 

It  is  this  spirit  in  a  consecrated  man's  soul  which 
is  always  victorious. 

When  Henry  closed  the  door  he  could  not  refrain 
from  saying: 

"I  heard  your  sermon  yesterday,  and  I  am  coming 
again." 

"I  thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Dowling;  "I  shall  look" 
for  you." 

He  turned  toward  Elsie  and  remarked : 

"You  evidently  have  a  noble  young  man  for  your 
brother.  He  carries  the  marks  and  bears  inspec- 
tion." 

"Yes,"  said  Elsie,  "there  is  only  one  thing  lack- 
ing; if  he  would  only  become  a  Christian  and  a 
member  of  the  Church,  I  would  think  he  was  per- 
fect." 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      65 

"I  imagined  he  was  not  much  of  a  Church  fel- 
low, but  we  will  bring  him." 

"I  would  be  so  happy  if  that  could  be,"  replied 
she;  "I  would  give  up  anything  in  the  world  if  it 
would  only  come  true.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  happy 
I  was.  I  think  I  was  the  nearest  to  heaven  I  have 
ever  been  last  Sunday  morning  when  he  went  to 
church  with  me,  and  it  was  all  his  own  suggestion. 
I  know  God  has  answered  my  prayer.  I  have  asked 
Him  a  thousand  times  to  do  this,  and  He  has  worked 
out  everything  so  strangely  and  yet  so  beautifully." 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Dowling. 

Then  Elsie  related  to  him  the  story  of  the  church 
bulletin,  the  labor  union,  Richard  Harding,  the 
service  and  their  pleasure  in  the  sermon.  "Now, 
this  is  the  strangest  part  of  it.  I  know  some  people 
would  say,  'Oh,  it  was  just  chance,'  but  I  know  God 
answers  prayer.  Why  should  I  go  to  the  mission 
yesterday  afternoon  ?  I  had  only  been  occasionally, 
but  I  seemed  impressed  with  a  certain  resistless 
necessity  that  I  must  go.  I  had  to  hasten  more  than 
ever,  and  I  was  late  at  that,  but  I  went.  Then,  to 
my  astonishment,  I  saw  you  there  for  the  first  time, 
met  other  friends  who  had  seen  us  in  the  morning, 
even  to  be  interested  and  friendly  enough  to  walk 
home  with  me,  and,  strangest  of  all,  to  meet  my 
brother  and  his  friend  Richard  on  the  corner  of  the 


66      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

street  where  Miss  Chambers  and  I  were  to  separate. 
Now  he  has  met  you." 

"Well,"  interrupted  Mr.  Dowling,  "that  is  a  chain 
which  only  a  higher  power  could  forge.  The  eyes  of 
the  world  do  not  discover  the  working  and  are  blind 
to  the  intricate  methods  of  His  answer,  but  the  in- 
tricacy does  not  destroy  the  validity." 

"That  is  just  what  I  believe,"  said  Elsie.  "I  know 
my  prayer  has  been  answered,  and  I  am  sure  the 
end  is  not  yet." 

"Just  what  is  the  reason  for  his  not  going  to 
church?"  asked  Mr.  Dowling. 

"I  do  not  believe  he  has  a  good  one,"  answered 
Elsie,  "but  he  thinks  he  has.  I  fear  he  misunder- 
stands the  Church  and  its  real  work  in  the  world. 
He  thinks  you  ministers  have  no  sympathy  with  the 
workingmen,  and  the  churches  are  just  for  the  rich 
and  well-to-do.  I  fear  he  has  gotten  to  be  almost  a 
socialist,  or  something  like  that.  I  do  not  believe 
he  is  an  infidel.  I  know  he  believes  in  God.  Yes, 
I  know  he  believes  in  Christ.  But,  then,  he  says 
there  is  little  of  the  real  spirit  of  Christ  in  the 
Church.  He  does  not  believe  it  is  very  anxious, 
if  desirous  at  all  to  have  him  and  his  class.  He 
witnesses  so  much  injustice  in  society  and  so  many 
wrongs  placed  upon  the  laboring  men  that  he  says 
his  work  is  in  the  labor  union,  and  he  can  make  the 
best  fight  for  the  right  there.    He  is  one  of  their 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      6j 

best  workers  and  most  enthusiastic  supporters.  He 
is  on  committees,  and  has  held  office,  and  even  makes 
speeches  sometimes.  Yes,  he  has  advocated  strikes, 
and  been  a  participant  in  them.  The  one  now  go- 
ing on  is  taking  all  his  interest.  It  is  in  all  this,  Mr. 
Dowling,  he  thinks  the  Church  stands  off  on  one  side, 
and  is  deaf  to  the  cry  of  real  need  and  speechless 
before  the  deepest  necessities  and  darkest  sins  in  hu- 
man society." 

David  Dowling  had  been  looking  right  at  Elsie 
when  she  began  to  tell  him  this  story,  but  before 
she  was  half-way  through  his  eyes  were  upon  the 
floor  at  his  feet,  and  his  mind  and  heart  were  fol- 
lowing every  word  that  she  uttered.  At  her  first 
real  pause  he  shook  his  head  and  said : 

"I  am  afraid  he  is  not  the  only  one." 

"No,"  said  Elsie,  "his  friends,  and  in  fact,  all  his 
associates,  feel  just  the  same.  He  says  there  are  one 
hundred  and  fifty  men  in  his  place  of  business,  and 
only  three  of  them  go  to  church." 

"There  must  be  some  reason  for  all  this.  I  hardly 
know  what  to  say  about  it,"  replied  Mr.  Dowling. 
"Only  I  know  this,  that  there  has  not  been  anything 
in  all  my  recent  ministry  that  has  troubled  me  more 
than  this,  and  by  God's  help  I  am  going  to  do  my 
best  to  change  this  feeling  on  their  part.  Of  course, 
they  are  wrong  in  a  measure,  but  is  not  the  Church 
to  blame,  also  ?    Anyway,  Miss  Fielding,  I  promise 


68      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

you  to  do  my  best  for  your  brother,  and  I  believe 
he  can  be  saved  for  the  Church  and  be  a  wonderful 
element  in  the  work  of  bringing  the  unions  and  the 
churches  nearer  together.  Perhaps  they  do  not  un- 
derstand us,  and  I  am  quite  sure  we  do  not  under- 
stand them. 

"Now  I  will  tell  you  what  we  will  do.  You  come 
to  our  church,  take  your  class  in  the  mission,  be 
one  of  us  in  interest  and  service,  and  we  will  gradual- 
ly get  into  his  heart  and  life.  You  cannot  do  the 
greatest  things  in  the  world  all  at  once.  We  will 
be  patient,  but  persistent.  It  is  easier  to  turn  elec- 
tricity or  steam  into  a  new  channel  than  it  is  a  life. 
I  am  convinced  that  any  man  can  be  reached  by  love 
and  the  spirit  of  God.  You  get  him  to  come  next 
Sunday.  I  will  watch  for  him,  and  be  sure  to  grasp 
his  hand,  and  also  to  introduce  him  to  some  of  our 
best  people.  We  will  use  all  means  toward  the  same 
end." 

"He  is  so  opposed  to  it  all,"  said  Elsie,  "that  I  am 
afraid,  and  yet  I  will  try  not  to  lose  any  faith,  but 
will  just  give  all  my  prayers  to  this,  and  I  am  so  glad 
that  you  have  come.  I  believe  God  sent  you,  al- 
though I  was  almost  ashamed  of  these  two  rooms 
as  being  all  of  our  home,  and  being  up  three  flights 
of  stairs,  but  now  I  do  not  care,  and  I  will  tell  you 
more  about  him  some  time,  and  my  coming  here, 
and  why  everything  is  just  as  it  is." 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      69 

"That  is  what  I  want  to  know,"  replied  he,  and  in 
his  tone  was  deep  interest  in  everything  which  con- 
cerned others. 

"But  I  must  go,"  he  continued,  as  he  looked  at  his 
watch. 

His  call  had  been  an  informal  one,  even  if  it  had 
been  the  first.  It  did  not  carry  the  professional  air, 
but  a  warmth  of  love  that  made  her  say  three  times 
before  he  had  closed  the  door  "that  she  wanted  him 
to  come  again." 

When  he  had  disappeared  she  sat  down  alone  in 
the  room  with  some  of  the  strangest  thoughts  and 
feelings  of  her  life,  mingled  joy  and  wonder  and 
hope.  Yes,  in  the  combination  was  an  element  of 
faith — simple,  yet  confident. 

She  was  powerful  in  her  womanly  characteristics, 
yet  childlike  in  her  purity  and  simplicity. 

She  bowed  her  head  to  the  table  and  only  thought 
at  first,  when  almost  unconsciously  she  was  praying, 
and  the  tears  of  deepest  gratitude  were  dropping  up- 
on her  hands,  while  angels  came  from  heaven  to 
gather  up  the  precious  jewels. 

Her  brother  was  also  passing  one  of  the  sign- 
boards of  his  life  and  stood  at  the  fork  of  the  roads. 

Oh,  that  he  might  turn  to  the  right.  Every  man 
has  strategic  points  in  life.  He  is  victor  who  follows 
his  vision.  The  man  who  refuses  to  see  or  refuses  to 
obey  is  lost. 


jo      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

It  was  a  stormy  night  in  Union  No.  10. 

The  necessary  business  had  been  transacted,  and 
the  time  was  ripe  for  interest  and  enthusiasm  in  the 
one  absorbing  topic.  Not  only  was  there  a  strike  on 
the  part  of  their  fellow-workingmen,  but  they  were 
standing  before  a  lock-out  in  one  of  the  factories 
where  several  hundred  of  the  men  were  employed. 
As  far  as  they  could  see,  they  were  absolutely  guilt- 
less. 

Of  course,  there  had  been  some  talk  of  objection 
to  the  introduction  of  new  machinery  to  take  the 
place  of  the  men,  and  especially  the  skilled  men,  and 
now  the  company,  some  one  represented,  had  sent  to 
a  distant  city,  and  were  shipping  in  a  whole  crowd  of 
non-union  men  to  take  their  places. 

It  was  only  report,  but  enough  evidence  around  it 
to  convince  them  of  a  foundation  in  fact. 

Every  man  was  ready  to  have  something  to  say, 
even  if  he  had  never  attempted  a  speech  in  the  meet- 
ing. 

Most  of  the  sentiment  uttered  was  bitter,  and  many 
of  the  words  were  bullets. 

The  whole  spirit  was  fight — and  why  not  ?  It  was 
a  question  of  right  and  justice.  A  question  of  bread 
and  home. 

Frank  Peters,  one  of  the  leaders  in  speech,  de- 
clared that  it  was  more  than  that.  It  was  just  as 
great  a  question  as  lay  in  front  of  Abraham  Lincoln 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      71 

when  he  signed  the  Emancipation  Proclamation.  It 
was  a  question  of  liberty.  "We  are  slaves  to  the  pres- 
ent system,"  he  shouted,  and  everybody  cheered.  His 
blood  was  now  at  the  boiling  point  as  he  cried: 
"Fight !  Yes,  fight ;  that  is  our  only  hope.  I  would 
just  as  soon  carry  a  musket  in  this  cause  as  to  carry 
any  gun  that  was  shouldered  in  the  War  of  the  Re- 
bellion. Yes,  rather.  This  battle  and  this  cause  is 
farther  reaching.  We  ought  to  cry  in  the  labor 
unions,  'Liberty  and  Union  now  and  forever,  one 
and  inseparable.'  It  is  inseparable  from  our 
unions,  and  the  victory  we  must  have  and  will 
have." 

Again  the  applause  was  tremendous,  and  he 
scarcely  waited  for  silence  before  he  plunged  into  a 
wave  of  his  own  kind  of  eloquence  against  the  crim- 
inality of  this  present  proceeding  upon  the  part  of 
the  employers. 

"They  want  everything,  and  are  willing  to  use  us 
only  as  machines.  When  the  machine  can  do  more 
or  better,  we  must  be  thrown  out  to  be  the  old, 
worn-out,  rusty  rubbish  of  society.  I,  for  one,  stand 
firmly  against  the  whole  infamous  proceeding,  and 
will  starve  before  I  give  up  the  fight." 

He  sat  down  amidst  a  roar  of  noise,  part  talk  and 
part  the  confusion  of  approval,  but  before  order  was 
restored  Tim  Marden  was  entering  vigorously  and 
almost  violently  into  the  discussion. 


72      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

He  began  talking  about  the  street  car  strike,  and 
the  perfect  justice  of  their  cause.  Their  hours  were 
too  long,  and  their  pay  was  too  small,  and  there  was 
no  help  for  them,  only  in  making  their  righteous 
demands,  and,  when  they  were  refused,  to  strike. 

Some  one  interrupted :  "Yes,  but  they  might  have 
tried  to  arbitrate  it  first." 

The  interrupter  was  silenced,  and  the  speaker 
went  on : 

"Neither  we  nor  they  have  much  sympathy  from 
any  source.  The  public  does  not  appreciate  our  po- 
sition and  does  not  realize  our  wrongs,  nor  the  in- 
justice we  are  constantly  suffering.  Neither  do  they 
understand  that  if  it  was  not  for  our  unions  it  would 
be  a  thousand  times  worse.  They  do  not  know  how 
we  have  by  hard  fight  secured  all  the  advantages  we 
now  possess,  and  that  the  iron  heel  would  press  us 
harder  than  it  does  if  we  did  not 'squirm  and  twist 
and  struggle  as  we  do.  The  people  outside  of  our 
organization  will  come  to  see  differently  some  day. 
Keep  up  the  battle,  my  boys,  keep  it  up.  The 
Church  and  the  ministers  have  religion,  but  in  the 
place  where  it  ought  to  be  practiced  most,  not  an 
atom  of  it  is  seen.  Some  of  them  do  not  know  what 
religion  is.  Why  don't  they  help  our  cause,  if  they 
are  harping  all  the  time  on  the  Golden  Rule  and  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  ?  They  ought  to  be  the  first 
to  help  us,  and  they  could  if  they  would,  but  they 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      73 

don't  seem  to  have  any  sympathy  whatever.  They 
are  afraid  of  losing  their  support  by  losing  Sam  Dex- 
ter and  his  kind — millionaire  church  members.  They 
would  rather  have  him  than  help  us.  I  tell  you,  the 
whole  business  is  out  of  shape.  Society  and  religion 
and  everything. 

"See  that  hand  ?"  said  he,  and  he  pushed  out  his 
great  palm  in  front  of  him  with  an  energy  which  al- 
most dislocated  it.  "That  will  be  palsied  and  dead 
before  I  give  up  the  battle.  I  will  help  the  street  car 
men,  and  every  other  man,  and  that  right  arm,  I 
hope,  will  wither  and  die  while  I  live  and  drop  from 
its  socket  if  I  do  not  keep  my  promise." 

They  gave  another  cheer  to  the  echo,  and  some 
one  else  took  the  floor  to  swear  allegiance  to  Union 
No.  10  and  make  a  plea  not  to  give  in. 

A  half  dozen  were  attempting  at  one  time  to  say 
their  say,  but  the  man  who  had  the  best  lungs  had 
his  chance  first. 

There  was  one  young  man  in  that  company  who 
was  having  the  greatest  struggle  of  his  life.  The 
severest  demands  were  being  made  upon  his  moral 
heroism.  A  deep  conviction  was  in  his  soul.  Should 
he  hide  it  or  slay  it,  or  swear  allegiance  to  it  even 
though  he  faced  the  mouths  of  a  thousand  cannon? 
He  had  spoken  before.  They  were  always  glad  to 
hear  him,  and  sometimes  called  for  him,  but  now  he 
was  trying  to  hide  himself  and  answer  the  voice 


74      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

which  only  his  own  soul  heard.  It  was  clear  and 
distinct.  There  was  no  question  about  its  demands 
and  its  reality. 

Henry  Fielding  was  not  a  Wendell  Phillips,  but  he 
lived  in  the  same  world,  and  in  his  own  sphere  was 
subjected  to  the  same  forces  and  experiences. 

He  had  only  the  week  before  read  a  part  of  the 
life  of  Phillips.  It  was  now  fresh  and  vivid  and  em- 
phatic in  his  memory.  The  great  man's  life  was  so 
far  removed  from  his  that  he  had  never  thought  of 
bringing  even  the  illustration  to  bear  upon  his  own 
day  and  own  world. 

How  little  we  know  of  the  meaning  of  a  single  in- 
cident in  another  life,  or  a  single  sentence  from  an- 
other lip  in  its  relation  to  ours.  The  page  of  a  book 
may  make  the  paper  of  a  kite  which  carries  the  first 
strand  of  the  bridge  over  an  impassable  chasm. 

Henry  had  been  reading  with  great  interest  of  that 
wonderful  hour  in  American  history  when  the  young 
patrician,  Wendell  Phillips,  was  in  his  law  office  in 
Boston  and  heard  the  shouts  of  a  mob  in  the  street ; 
how  he  rushed  to  his  window  to  see  the  citizens  of 
his  own  city  dragging  William  Lloyd  Garrison  over 
the  pavements  with  a  rope  about  his  neck.  The 
blood  marks  were  left  upon  the  sharp  stones.  They 
cursed  him  and  kicked  him,  but  he  shouted  that  he 
would  not  be  silent,  but  must  be  heard. 

The  young  lawyer,  with  a  lofty  plan  for  life — a  pol- 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      75 

ished  attorney  for  the  higher  class — looked  out  upon 
that  cruelty  and  inhumanity,  only  to  find  his  blood 
becoming  hotter  in  his  veins,  while  he  stamped  his 
foot  in  indignation  as  he  closed  the  window,  and  sat 
down  in  the  struggle  with  his  own  soul. 

He,  in  that  sacred  moment^  heard  Christ  say: 
"Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these,  ye  did  it  unto  me,"  and  when  he  heard  the 
Saviour  of  men  say  that,  he  made  the  holiest  resolu- 
tion of  his  life :  'I  will  follow  the  right  and  the  lib- 
erty of  my  fellow-men,  even  if  they  mob  me  and  I  die 
in  the  shame  of  a  wicked  age." 

Then  on  the  platform  of  Fanueil  Hall  he  arose  to 
deliver  that  famous  speech,  amid  the  hisses  and 
abuses  of  some  of  the  best-known  people  in 
America,  but  he  braved  the  cyclone  of  wrath,  and 
suffered  for  Christ's  sake,  until  in  the  years,  the  very 
people  who  slandered  him,  and  would  have  murdered 
him  had  they  dared,  led  their  children  to  his  monu- 
ment in  that  same  city,  and  told  them  to  read  his 
name  and  never  forget  it,  because  it  was  one  of  the 
greatest  on  all  the  pages  of  history. 

This  wonderful  act  of  sacrifice  and  heroism  had 
made  such  an  impression  upon  Henry  that  when  it 
came  back  now,  it  was  with  renewed  emphasis. 
Some  things  grow  in  memory  as  well  as  in  the  soil. 
God's  sunlight  falls  upon  it,  and  heaven's  drawing 


J 6      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

power  brings  an  oak  out  of  an  acorn  here,  as  well  as 
upon  the  hillside. 

His  struggle  was  in  a  smaller  circle,  but  it  was  just 
as  intense. 

Conscience  and  duty  and  right  had  just  as  much  to 
do  with  it.  Yes,  sacrifice  may  be  covered  in  Henry 
Fielding's  life,  but  it  was  covered  only  because  of  its 
value  and  sanctity.  Life  was  not  dear  to  him.  He 
was  now  hearing  only  part  of  the  fiery  speeches,  just 
enough  to  bring  more  heat  to  his  own  burning  con- 
victions. 

Some  things  had  been  said  here  and  before  this 
which  he  knew  were  too  extreme  and  almost  past  the 
boundary  line  of  truth.  The  wholesale  condemna- 
tion of  the  Church  and  the  ministers  in  their  rela- 
tion to  the  labor  union  was  unjust,  and  he  never, 
until  now,  had  realized  it. 

He  had  thought  and  said  the  same  thing,  but  he 
kept  repeating  to  himself  "there  is  one  bright  excep- 
tion I  know,  anyway,  and  there  must  be  others." 
Perhaps  we  have  injured  our  cause  as  much  as  they 
or  anybody  else  have  injured  it,  by  not  investigating 
and  understanding  the  churches  and  their  people, 
and  then  making  such  broad  and  sweeping  state- 
ments.   Ought  not  somebody  to 

Just  then  Paul  Spaulding  secured  the  floor.  He 
was  a  bright  young  fellow,  who  had  received  the 
best  of  education,  and  had  chosen  to  learn  a  trade 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      77 

with  a  view  to  knowing  his  business  before  he  at- 
tempted to  manage  a  place  of  his  own.  He  began  by 
saying  that  they  knew  him  and  knew  how  sympathy 
for  the  union  and  its  work  had  grown  upon  him, 
and  he  was  going  to  see  justice  done,  even  though 
his  life's  ambitions  were  blighted.  He  said  he  had 
hoped  to  see  public  sentiment  aroused  in  their  be- 
half and  the  churches  their  special  supporters  in  the 
struggle  for  the  right,  but  he  went  on :  "As  has  been 
declared  here  to-night,  it  seems  to  be  going  farther 
away  from  them.  The  preachers  live  better  than  we 
do,  and  are  satisfied.  They  do  not  seem  to  care 
about  our  condition  and  absence  from  the  church. 
If  they  would,  they  could  change  this  whole  stream 
and  turn  it  into  another  and  better  channel. 

"I  noticed  that  one  of  them  did  venture  in  the  city 
last  Sunday  to  preach  about  'Would  Christ  belong 
to  a  labor  union  ?'  I  did  not  hear  for  myself,  but  it 
was  the  old  story  they  tell  me.  He  did  not  take  any 
firm  stand  or  even  answer  his  own  question.  They 
say  he  just  smoothed  over  the  rich  employers  in 
front  of  him,  and  gave  some  platitudes  about  labor, 
and  that  was  about  all  there  was  to  it.  Yes,  one 
man  told  me  that  he  said  positively  that  Christ  would 
not  join  a  labor  union." 

The  struggle  had  grown  with  more  intensity  in 
Henry's  soul,  and  the  question  was :  "Should  he  be 
true  to  his  convictions,  or  any  way  true  to  that  which 


78      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

was  fact  concerning  David  Dowling's  answer  to  that 
question,  and  not  get  any  applause,  or  should  he 
speak  as  the  others  had,  and  be  cheered." 

The  picture  of  Fanueil  Hall  came  before  him  con- 
stantly. He  saw  the  pale  face  and  slender  physique 
of  Phillips,  and  the  striking  attitude  of  his  coura- 
geous soul  as  his  long  arm  swung  around  in  thrill- 
ing eloquence,  and  his  finger  pointed  toward  the 
Attorney-General. 

Just  then  something  whispered  to  him  with  dis- 
tinct utterance,  "Coward — coward." 

Instantly,  he  was  upon  his  feet,  and  began  to 
speak,  pushed  on  by  the  holiest  impulse  of  his  life. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  began,  "I  rise  to  declare  myself 
once  more  on  your  side,  which  is  the  side  of  right 
and  humanity  and  God.  You  know  my  sentiments 
concerning  our  cause,  and  in  this  present  situation 
they  have  not  changed  one  iota.  If  we  cannot  have 
justice  without  a  strike,  I  will  lead  the  strike  and 
starve  in  the  battle.  I  do  not  believe  we  have  had 
our  just  share  of  the  product  of  our  toil  yet.  The 
greed  of  capital  must  be  checked,  and  every  ounce 
of  my  blood  is  ready  for  sacrifice  in  behalf  of  the 
honest  and  hard-worked  men  of  this  land." 

The  cheers  and  approval  had  not  before  arisen  to 
such  a  pitch  as  they  did  following  these  sentences. 
The  listeners  were  all  intent  for  more. 

"But,"  he  continued,  "I  wish  to-night  to  register 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      79 

my  name  on  the  side  of  fairness  and  truth.  There 
is  sympathy  for  us,  and  I  have  discovered  it.  It  is 
one  of  the  brightest  stars  in  our  sky.  It  is  brilliant 
with  prophecy.  It  is  the  flashing  jewel  of  hope  in 
the  night.  We  have  been  pleading  for  justice — let 
us  give  justice  to  others.  That  is  the  only  way  in 
God's  government  to  secure  it  for  ourselves-  Our 
cause  is  lost  if  we  are  hypocritical  and  demand  that 
which  we  are  not  ourselves  ready  to  give.  At  all 
hazards,  let  us  have  the  truth. 

"It  has  been  said  here  to-night  that  all  the  rich  are 
our  enemies.  I  do  not  believe  that.  I  have  been 
thinking  and  seeing  in  these  last  days.  While  there 
is  selfishness  and  coldness  in  a  large  part  of  that 
class  of  society,  let  us  not  forget  what  some  have  done 
and  others  are  doing.  Call  the  other  kind  the  rule, 
but  do  not  become  wilfully  blind  to  the  exceptions. 

"Then  it  has  also  been  said  several  times  that  the 
Church  is  absolutely  indifferent,  and  the  working- 
men  are  outside  of  the  Church  because  the  churches 
are  out  of  touch  with  them  and  do  not  care.  It  has 
just  been  said  that  one  minister  in  the  city  ventured 
to  show  a  shadow  of  interest  in  us  last  Sunday,  and 
advertised  our  cause  as  his  subject,  but  proved  a 
traitor  to  us  even  then,  and  surrendered  himself  and 
the  cause  up  completely  to  the  good  graces  of  the 
rich." 

It  was  as  still  as  death,  and  every  man  was  looking 


80      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

directly  at  the  speaker,  and  most  of  them  were  not 
touching  the  backs  of  their  chairs. 

He  paused,  and  then  said :  "I  was  there,  and 
heard  every  word  of  it.  He  did  not  say  just  what  I 
would  have  said,  or  what  I  wish  he  had  said,  but  I 
am  convinced  that  he  was  honest  and  true  to  his  con- 
victions, and  more,  I  am  sure,  he  is  our  friend.  He 
stood  up  boldly,  and  said,  without  any  reserve  or 
hesitation,  that  Christ  would  join  a  labor  union,  and 
he  pleaded  for  justice  and  liberty  and  salvation; 
justice  for  the  toiler,  liberty  for  society,  and  salvation 
for  the  man.  He  said  that  was  the  creed  of  the 
union  to  which  Christ  would  belong.  He  was  not 
unfair  to  either  side,  but  a  kingly  man  in  his  place. 
I  know  we  misunderstand  some  of  the  churches  and 
some  of  the  ministers.  They  are  not  all  alike  in  this 
respect  any  more  than  others,  but  they  are  coming 
toward  us. 

"Gentlemen,  as  we  love  our  cause,  let  us  go  toward 
them.  Go  half  way.  Be  fair.  The  Church  and  the 
preacher  may  yet  be  our  champions  and  our  best 
friends.  Anyway,  here  stands  one  man  who  will 
never  condemn  again  until  I  know.  I  will  be  true 
if  I  die  in  this  or  any  other  cause,  God  help  me." 

There  was  not  a  sound  of  applause.  Sometimes 
the  impression  is  too  great  to  admit  an  audible  ap- 
proval.   It  almost  touches  the  sacred.    Often  the  ut- 


A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10.      81 

terance  of  the  soul  closes  in  an  environment  of  sol- 
emnity. 

Who  would  dare  say  that  Henry  Fielding  was  not 
inspired. 

What  is  present  day  inspiration? 

Why  not  his  great  honest  soul  as  well  as  that  of  a 
Phillips,  or  a  Henry,  or  a  Webster,  or  a  Clay  ? 

No  one  attempted  to  speak  for  a  complete  sixty 
seconds. 

Then  the  chairman  of  the  meeting  looked  from 
one  side  of  the  room  to  the  other,  and  said : 

"I,  for  one,  would  be  in  favor  of  having  that  kind 
of  minister  come  and  speak  to  us  right  here.  I  don't 
see  anything  out  of  the  way  about  that.  Why  not? 
I  don't  know  to  whom  reference  has  been  made,  but 
I  do  not  care  who  he  is.  I  would  like  to  hear  him 
on  that  same  subject." 

Henry  rose  again,  and  said : 

"Do  not  misunderstand  me.  I  am  just  as  much 
of  a  fighter  as  any  man  of  you,  and  am  with  you  to 
the  last  chapter  of  our  struggle.  I  am  anxious  that 
we  take  the  right  method  always.  A  slight  mistake 
may  lead  us  a  long  distance  out  of  the  way.  If  the 
Church  and  the  ministers  are  the  greatest  moral  and 
spiritual  factors  in  society,  why  not  get  in  right 
relation  with  them — at  least,  one  of  mutual  under- 
standing? Misrepresentation  may  be  our  ruin.  Per- 
haps we  have  said  so  many  times,  'they  do  not  want 


82      A  Stormy  Night  in  Union  No.  10. 

us'  that  we  have  come  to  believe  it2  and  are  believing 
a  falsehood. 

"I  would  like  to  make  a  motion  that  Rev.  David 
Dowling,  to  whom  we  have  referred,  be  invited  to 
come  to  the  next  meeting,  and  address  us." 

Some  one  seconded  the  motion,  and  it  was  put  to 
vote  and  carried  by  about  two-thirds  voting  for  it. 

The  meeting  very  quickly  came  to  an  end,  and 
most  of  them  did  not  know  what  to  think. 

Henry  Fielding  had  thrown  a  shell  into  the  very 
centre  of  things,  and  it  had  burst  with  tremendous 
effect. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN  DAVID  DOWUNG'S  STUDY. 

Mr.  Dowling  reached  home  about  ten  o'clock  that 
evening.  He  threw  off  his  overcoat  and  hat  and 
walked  directly  through  the  hallway  into  his  study, 
which  was  at  the  rear  of  the  house. 

He  sat  down  in  his  accustomed  place,  but  not  to 
make  sermons. 

His  eyes  dropped  to  the  floor,  and  his  arm  rested 
nervously  on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  In  a  moment  or 
two,  he  walked  across  the  room  and  threw  himself 
upon  the  lounge.  That  was  not  rest.  Position  is 
not  rest.  It  asks  for  something  more  than  a  lounge. 
The  downy  couch  of  the  king's  palace  is  not  named 
"rest." 

There  was  a  great  burden  upon  him,  an  irresistible 
pressure.  In  that  condition,  a  man  might  as  well 
stand  up  as  lie  down — perhaps  better. 

His  wife  called  to  him  from  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
and  when  he  answered,  she  said : 

"I  just  wanted  to  know  if  you  were  in.  I  thought 
I  heard  you.    Where  are  you?" 

"In  the  study,"  he  answered,  "come  down  here." 

When  she  entered  he  did  not  even  turn  his  head 


84  In  David  Dowling's  Study. 

toward  her,  and  as  she  had  before,  ten  thousand 
times,  she  asked : 

"What  is  it  troubling  you?  Oh,  don't  worry,  I 
am  sure  you  can't  bear  the  whole  burden  of  the 
world.  Just  throw  it  off  now,  whatever  it  is,  and  go 
right  to  your  room  and  to  sleep.  But  tell  me,  what 
were  you  thinking  about?" 

"Etta,"  said  he,  "you  know  me  better  than  any- 
body else,  and  you  know  that  I  have  conscientiously 
tried  to  do  my  work  in  the  best  way  in  order  to 
reach  men  for  Christ,  and  yet  I  am  not  satisfied; 
far  from  it,  and  further  than  ever  to-night.  If  some- 
body will  only  show  me  a  better  way,  I  will  do  it. 
I  will  give  up  anything.  I  will  sacrifice  every  plan. 
I  will  do  twice  as  much  work,  if  possible,  if  only 
a  better  result  can  be  attained." 

"Well,  David,"  said  Mrs.  Dowling,  "if  you  do 
twice  as  much,  you  will  have  to  have  longer  days 
and  a  shorter  life.  You  work  now  fifteen  hours  a 
day,  and  seven  days  in  the  week,  and  that  is  a  grave 
digger's  shovel,  and  you  begin  to  look  like  a  ghost." 

"But,  maybe,"  said  he,  "I  am  not  doing  it  in  the 
right  way.  Perhaps  the  Church  is  off  the  track. 
Any  way  the  results  are  not  much,  and  they  seem 
to  get  less  each  year." 

"What  brings  this  upon  you  with  such  force  to- 
night?" asked  she. 

"It  is  not  a  sudden  thing  with  me ;  only  some  new 


In  David  Dowling's  Study.  85 

developments  in  it.  I  want  to  reach  this  great  mass 
of  workingmen,  and  men  outside  of  the  Church. 
The  lodges  and  the  clubs  are  crowded  and  increas- 
ing in  number  every  hour.  The  labor  unions  have 
large  and  enthusiastic  meetings,  but  the  men  are  not 
in  the  churches,  and  many  of  them  are  more  than 
indifferent.    They  are  against  us." 

He  then  told  her  about  his  call  on  Elsie  Fielding, 
and  her  sorrow  about  her  brother,  and  his  feelings 
concerning  the  Church,  and  also  of  another  woman 
whom  he  had  seen  that  evening,  whose  husband  was 
never  at  church,  and  who  even  took  the  children  to 
the  park  on  Sunday  and  away  from  Sunday  school. 

"Oh,  David,  you  are  looking  on  the  dark  side; 
you  are  tired,  and  it  will  not  be  foggy  when  the  sun 
comes  up.  Go  ahead  and  do  the  best  you  can,  and 
let  God  take  care  of  the  result." 

"That's  not  it,"  continued  he.  "This  is  a  grow- 
ing conviction.  It  is  one  of  the  most  vital  ques- 
tions of  the  day  for  the  Church  and  society  both. 
What  is  wrong?  If  I  only  knew.  There  is  one  man 
in  the  world  who  would  do  what  Christ  ordered  him 
to  do,  even  if  he  carried  another  cross  up  Calvary. 
You  know  you  had  the  door  bell  fixed  Saturday. 
When  I  came  downstairs  the  electrician  had  the 
outside  wires  and  buttons  off,  and  had  changed  the 
batteries  in  the  cellar  and  been  working  at  the  whole 
of  the  machinery  for  a  couple  of  hours,  but  could  not 


86  In  David  Dowling's  Study. 

find  out  what  the  trouble  was.  He  told  me  his 
dilemma,  and  I  said  to  him  that  he  was  the  electri- 
cian, but  I  was  the  sermon  maker.  He  must  take 
care  of  his  end  of  it,  and  I  would  take  care  of  mine. 
He  went  at  it  again,  and  called  me  afterward  to  tell 
me  in  partial  anger  and  partial  delight  that  just 
where  the  wires  were  attached  to  the  bell,  the  point 
of  contact  was  missing,  almost  like  a  hair  for  dis- 
tance apart,  and  yet  there  could  be  no  sound  with- 
out it.  In  a  few  seconds  he  brought  them  together, 
and  the  bell  rings  now.  I  wonder  if  that  is  not  just 
the  trouble  with  the  Church.  The  machinery  is  all 
right.  The  batteries  of  theology  are  all  right.  It 
is  the  point  of  contact,  Etta ;  that  is  the  trouble.  We 
are  out  of  touch.  Jesus  touched  the  leper  and  the 
blind,  and  all  classes  of  men.  That  is  the  very  genius 
of  Christianity,  and  we  have  lost  it.  The  only  way 
to  make  music  in  this  world  of  discord  is  to  furnish 
the  point  of  contact  by  divinest  sympathy  and  Christ- 
touch  of  love.  I  believe  that  is  the  whole  fault. 
This  mission  business  and  all  that  which  only  gives 
a  hungry  man  food,  or  a  beggar  money,  is  not 
enough  either.  That  is  only  the  means  or  opportun- 
ity. Money  given  to  men,  if  that  is  all,  makes  them 
curse  the  giver  and  pass  by  the  Church.  It  is  only 
the  heart  contact  with  the  money.  We  are  never  go- 
ing to  reach  the  workingmen  and  save  them  by  our 
present  cold  and  formal  methods.     I  must  come 


In  David  Dowling's  Study.  87 

down  off  my  high  pulpit  to  get  hold  of  their  cal- 
loused hands,  and  let  them  see  my  large  heart  almost 
bursting  through  my  vest." 

Mrs.  Dowling  interrupted  to  say : 

"You  are  the  most  consecrated  man  in  the  world, 
anyway,  and  I  don't  know  how  you  can  be  any 

better." 

"So  you  say,  Etta,  but  I    have  to  show  that  to 
these  men  who  don't  know  me  or  understand  me. 
We  must  not  talk  longer  to-night,  but  this  is  my 
determination,  and  I  will  not  yield  if  I  die.    It  is  the 
result  of  months   of  experience  and   thought   and 
prayer.    At  all  hazards,  I  am  going  to  let  the  work- 
ingmen  of  this  city  know  that  I  am  in  sympathy  with 
their  cause,  and  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  help  them. 
I  will  not  preach  it  all  of  the  time,  but  I  will  live  it  all 
of  the  time,  and  preach  it  fearlessly  when  the  hour 
demands  it.    I  can  live  on  half  of  my  salary,  but  I 
cannot  live  on  duty  neglected  or  feared.    I  am  going 
to  get  hold  of  these  men  and  show  them  that  Christ 
would  join  a  labor  union.     I  have  taken  his  name 
as  mine.    Then  I  must  be  a  Christ  to  them.    It  may 
take  time,  but  I  will  help  in  the  revolution.    There  is 
one  man  I  am  going  to  touch  anyway.     I  have  prom- 
ised it,  and  I  will  begin  with  him.    I  could  tell  when 
I  saw  him  to-night  that  I  had  seen  some  of  the  best 
material  in  the  human  family  made  up  in  him.    I 


88  In  David  Dowling's  Study. 

want  you  to  help  me  pray  for  him.  Christ  took  one 
at  a  time.    This  is  my  Nicodemus." 

She  knelt  at  his  side,  and  the  study  walls  never 
echoed  a  more  earnest  prayer  than  the  one  David 
Dowlin-g  breathed  out  to  God  that  night. 

There  was  something  else  to  take  place  in  that 
study  before  Saturday  night. 

Henry  Fielding  had  been  appointed  a  committee 
of  one  to  carry  the  invitation  to  the  minister  to  speak 
at  the  next  union  meeting,  and  while  Mr.  Dowling 
was  now  in  his  study,  Henry  was  at  home  at  the  same 
hour,  and  remaining  sleepless  for  a  long  time. 

He  marveled  at  himself.  He  wondered  about  the 
speech  he  had  made  and  the  criticism  he  had  aroused. 
He  said  over  and  over  again  :  "I  know  they  have  and 
will  misunderstand  me,  but  I  am  going  to  be  true  at 
any  cost,  and  I  will  prove  to  them  that  I  am  their  best 
friend  yet.  Some  of  them  carried  a  sneer  at  my  sen- 
timents and  opposed  the  motion  about  the  minister, 
and  I  heard  remarks  afterward — yes,  I  suppose  there 
were  many  I  did  not  hear.  Anyway,  I  will  stand  by 
it  whatever  it  costs." 

He  tossed  from  one  side  to  the  other  and  tried  to 
use  will  power  to  keep  his  eyes  closed,  but  they  saw 
more  than  they  ever  saw  when  open  and  in  the 
brightest  light. 

"Even  Richard,"  thought  he,  "did  not  give  much 
encouragement.    He  voted  for  it,  but  that  was  about 


In  David  Dowling's  Study.  89 

all.  I  suppose  the  fellow  did  not  know  what  to  make 
of  it,  or  what  to  do.  He  will  be  all  right  and  stand 
by,  I  know ;  but  what  days  these  have  been,  not  great 
outward  changes,  but  there  is  a  marked  difference 
in  me  somehow." 

It  does  not  take  long  to  change  an  honest  man's 
mind.  He  is  even  more  ready  to  move  his  position 
than  a  knave.  There  was  more  than  one  new  element 
in  the  life  of  Henry  Fielding.  The  new  truth  had 
captured  him,  he  was  its  slave.  That  is  the  largest 
freedom  in  the  world. 

But  another  throne  was  rising  up  before  him,  and 
upon  it  was  a  queen  of  truest  royalty. 

He  had  suddenly  met  his  ideal  womanhood. 

Was  it  only  a  dream,  or  was  there  some  reality 
in  it? 

His  mother  and  sister  were  dearest  to  him  of  any- 
body in  the  world,  and  he  had  never  cared  for  another, 
only  the  boy's  devotion  to  a  school-girl ;  but  that  had 
vanished  like  the  spring  rose  in  the  heat  of  summer 
and  the  cold  of  winter. 

Yet  the  root,  and  life,  and  nature  were  there  wait- 
ing to  blossom  again  after  the  storms. 

"What  a  fool  I  am,"  thought  he,  and  almost  said 
it  aloud  that  night  at  twelve  o'clock.  "She  is  a  mill- 
ion miles  away  from  me,  and  I  am  kept  awake  by 
the  lack  of  brains.  The  white  matter  is  loose  in  my 
cranium,  and  cannot  rest  because  of  too  much  room 


90  In  David  Dowling's  Study. 

to  float  about.  Here  goes  for  sleep  and  some  com- 
mon sense,"  as  he  took  a  new  turn  on  the  couch. 

But  some  giants  and  armies  are  more  easily  con- 
.quered  than  thoughts  and  dreams.  They  fall  only 
to  rise  again  and  renew  the  battle,  even  if  it  takes  all 
night. 

Henry  had  only  seen  Grace  Chalmers  for  a  few 
moments,  but  something  more  than  a  rich  girl  with 
attractive  ways  had  crossed  his  path. 

There  is  something  about  these  sudden  meetings 
of  life  that  we  cannot  plan,  and  whose  power  we  can- 
not measure.  It  was  more  to  him  than  if  an  angel 
had  stopped  him  on  his  way  and  revealed  some- 
thing strange  and  startling  to  him.  He  could  not 
explain  it,  and  would  not  dare  tell  it,  but  can  any 
one  think  less  of  him  who  knows  the  human  heart 
and  the  wonders  of  life  and  love  ?  Yes,  they  are  one 
and  the  same.  Life  is  love,  and  love  is  life.  Each 
four  letters,  and  they  begin  and  end  the  same. 

These  new  thoughts  and  conquering  fears  in  his 
heart  give  greater  admiration  for  Henry  Fielding. 

Emerson  says :    "All  the  world  loves  a  lover." 

There  is  a  great  void  in  any  young  man's  life  who 
has  never  experienced  the  hours  through  which  he 
was  now  passing. 

Just  before  he  entered  into  a  restless  sleep,  he 
received  comfort  from  calling  himself  insane  to  think 
of  her.    "And  still,"  said  he,  "she  was  mighty  attrac- 


In  David  Dowling's  Study.  91 

tive  in  her  way,  and  treated  me  as  her  equal.  It  is 
her  own  fault  if  a  fellow,  with  only  a  workingman's 
wages,  and  a  sister  to  support,  thinks  of  it.  She  did 
it.  Why  did  she  not  toss  her  head,  and  almost  refuse 
to  speak,  as  I  thought  every  girl  of  her  kind  would  ?" 

He  passed  into  a  surface  sleep,  and  if  Elsie  had 
been  awake  in  the  next  room  she  might  have  heard 
him  say  aloud  in  a  partial  dream : 

"Anyway,  I  would  like  to  see  her  again." 

The  week  passed  on  uneventfully,  but  in  the  secret 
silence  of  his  own  soul  he  carried  the  most  sacred 
thoughts  of  his  life.  This  is  the  holy  of  holies  of  the 
human  heart,  and  not  even  a  mother  or  sister  can 
enter  the  sanctuary.  It  is  the  inner  temple,  and  the 
holiest  visitor  is  the  first  and  purest  thought  of  love. 

Offend  anything  else  under  heaven,  or  even  in  it, 
before  offense  is  given  to  that,  because  God  is  Love, 
and  the  devotion  of  human  hearts  ought  to  be  a  part 
of  the  Divine. 

Saturday  evening  came,  and  found  him  not  ready 
for  his  errand,  but  it  must  be  done.  He  was  in  it, 
and  was  man  enough  not  to  back  out. 

The  call  upon  the  minister  had  to  be  made,  and 
the  invitation  given. 

Immediately  after  supper,  and  after  a  wandering 
of  conversation,  because  his  mind  was  upon  the 
errand,  and  what  he  was  to  say,  Henry  started  out, 
only  to  hear  Elsie  say : 


92  In  David  Dowling's  Study. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  to  go.  I  know  you  will  like 
him  better.  I  never  had  a  pleasanter  call  than  the 
one  he  made  here." 

David  Dowling  had  just  said  to  his  wife : 

"I  am  to  stay  home  for  once  to-night,  I  hope  no 
one  will  ring  that  perpetual-motion  bell.  I  almost 
wish  the  electrician  had  not  found  his  point  of  con- 
tact." 

He  turned  from  the  hall  into  his  study,  to  pick  up  a 
new  book  which  had  been  waiting  for  this  evening, 
or  some  other,  when  the  music  of  the  bell  was  heard. 

It  was  discord  to  him,  and  almost  made  him  feel 
unministerial  and  unchristian.  It  was  only  moment- 
ary though,  and  the  usual  cordial  manner  and  smile 
came  home,  and  they  told  him  a  young  man  wanted 
to  see  him  a  moment. 

He  called  out: 

"Have  him  come  right  in  here." 

When  Henry  walked  toward  the  study,  Mr.  Dow- 
ling came  to  the  door  to  greet  him.     He  said : 

"Why,  I  am  surprised  to  see  you,  but  I  am  de- 
lighted," and  he  was. 

The  other  spirit  was  human ;  this  was  the  Christ 
and  the  better  nature,  and  the  most  of  it  was  in  him. 

"I  would  not  have  ventured  to  call,"  said  Henry, 
"and  I  now  dislike  to  disturb  you,  but  I  have  a  mes- 
sage for  you,  and  will  detain  you  only  a  moment." 


In  David  Dowling's  Study.  93 

"You  are  welcome  as  long  as  you  can  remain.  I 
will  not  let  you  go  right  away,"  replied  Mr.  Dowling. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Henry,  "but  I  came  from  one 
of  the  labor  unions,  Union  No.  10,  to  which  I  belong, 
and  the  men  want  you  to  attend  our  next  meeting 
and  speak  for  us." 

A  new  color  came  into  the  minister's  face,  and  a 
puzzled  expression  gathered.  In  a  moment  of  sur- 
prise, he  hardly  knew  what  to  say.    Then  he  asked : 

"What  night  is  it  to  be?" 

It  was  only  a  question  to  take  time  and  give  him 
opportunity  to  think.  He  asked  where  it  was,  and 
if  this  was  an  innovation,  etc.,  only  for  the  same 
reason,  and  then  said : 

"I  would  like  to  do  anything  I  can  for  your  cause 
in  as  far  as  it  is  right,  and  I  will  do  this  if  it  will  help 
in  any  way." 

Henry  replied  emphatically  that  it  would,  and  said 
he  had  been  the  instigator  of  it. 

"The  men,"  he  went  on,  "are  out  of  touch  with  the 
Church,  and  I  believe  they  are  out  of  relation  with 
that  force  in  society  which  can  and  ought  to  help 
them  most.  Understand  me.  I  am  not,  and  I  don't 
believe  most  of  them  are  far  away  from  the  Church. 
They  are  only  waiting  for  the  opportunity  to  come  to 
show  their  true  spirit." 

"Is  it  true,"  said  Mr.  Dowling,  "that  they  sneer 
at  the  Church  and  applaud  the  name  of  Christ?" 


94  In  David  Dowling's  Study. 

"No,"  said  Henry,  "I  have  not  heard  that,  and 
if  that  is  done  it  is  the  exception,  not  the  rule.  They 
simply  stand  one  side  and  carelessly  stay  away  from 
the  Church.  They  claim  that  the  preacher  is  out  of 
sympathy  with  them,  and  does  not  care  about  their 
burdens,  and  I  will  have  to  confess  to  that  as  my  own 
fault  for  a  long  time." 

Henry  blushed  a  trifle  as  he  looked  toward  the 
floor  and  said : 

"I  used  to  go  to  church  and  to  Sunday  school  up 
in  the  country.  I  never  joined  the  Church,  but  some- 
times thought  I  was  a  Christian.  When  I  reached 
here  and  entered  into  this  great  whirlpool  of  human- 
ity, struggling  against  wrongs  and  for  rights,  dying 
in  the  almost  useless  effort,  I  became  cold  and  indif- 
ferent to  everything  which  went  by  the  name  of  reli- 
gion.   It  didn't  seem  to  me  there  was  much  in  it." 

Mr.  Dowling  interrupted  to  say : 

"Tell  me  all  about  it.  I  am  interested  and  even 
anxious  to  find  out  my  own  fault  in  the  matter." 

"Well,"  said  Henry,  "I  have  told  you  about  all.  I 
confess  to  fault  on  my  part,  but  I  tell  you  there 
are  many  things  that  ought  to  be  made  right,  and 
the  Church  ought  to  do  its  part  at  least,  to  bring 
Christ  into  the  everyday  life  and  business  of  the 
world.  There  is  not  much  chance  for  a  man  in  these 
days.  The  odds  are  so  great.  I  had  bright  dreams 
when  I  came  down  here,  and  have  done  my  best, 


In  David  Dowling's  Study.  95 

but  wages  half  the  time  have  been  cut  down,  and 
sometimes  we  have  been  out  on  a  strike,  and  then  I 
have  a  sister  to  care  for.  There  has  been  almost 
enough  in  all  this  to  keep  me  away  from  the  Church ; 
yes,  I  might  as  well  say,  'Away  from  God.'  If  I 
am  honest,  as  I  must  be,  I  am  quite  sure  'away  from 
church,'  means  in  most  cases,  'away  from  God.' 

"Do  you  feel  just  the  same  now,  Mr.  Fielding,  as 
you  always  did?"  asked  Mr.  Dowling. 

"Well,  I  can't  say  that  I  do.  There  has  been  no 
outside  change  in  my  life,  and  yet  I  am  coming  to 
look  at  some  things  differently.  At  least,  I  am 
realizing  my  own  fault  more,  and  seeing  the  Church, 
yes,  seeing  you  in  a  little  better  light.  That  sermon 
last  Sunday  morning  has  done  something  for  me,  I 
am  sure,  and  that  is  what  makes  me  want  you  to  give 
something  of  the  same  kind  to  the  other  men.  I  be- 
lieve they  will  receive  it  and  get  great  profit  from  it." 

"Just  what  do  you  want  me  to  talk  about  ?" 

"Oh,"  said  Henry,  "I  leave  that  to  you.  You 
know  best ;  only  show  them  that  the  Church  and  the 
ministry  are  in  sympathy  and  will  help  in  any  way 
possible — at  least  that  they  will  be  just  to  both  sides 
and  all  men.  They  believe  that  you  bow  and  bend 
to  the  rich,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  truth." 

"I  will  be  there,"  said  David  Dowling,  as  he 
struck  the  study  table  with  his  hand,  "and  I  will  have 


96  In  David  Dowling's  Study. 

them  know  that  that  is  not  true.  If  it  has  been,  by 
God's  grace,  it  never  will  be  again." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Henry,  "I  am  glad  to  carry  that 
report,  and  must  go  now." 

"Don't  hurry,  I  want  to  hear  a  little  more  about 
yourself.  I  wish  I  could  do  something  for  you.  I 
have  been  thinking  about  you  all  week,  and  praying 
for  you.  I  believe  God  sent  you  here  to-night.  I 
wanted  this  evening  alone,  but  I  would  a  million 
times  rather  have  you  here,  and  that  is  honest." 

Henry  had  risen  to  go,  but  almost  unconsciously 
settled  back  in  his  chair  again. 

"If  you  and  I  could  understand  each  other,  that 
would  be  a  splendid  beginning,"  continued  Mr. 
Dowling.  "A  mustard  seed  with  magnificent  possi- 
bilities in  it.  I  do  not  want  to  go  to  your  union, 
unless  I  feel  that  I  have  one  friend  and  helper  in  the 
cause." 

"Oh,  you  can  count  on  me  for  that,"  said  Henry. 

"But  I  mean  more  than  you  think.  What  a  won- 
derful thing  it  would  be  if  you  were  a  Christian  man 
yourself,  and  carried  the  influence  of  Christ  into  the 
organization,  and  did  your  part,  which  would  be  a 
great  part,  in  swinging  the  Church  around  toward 
the  workingmen.  They  never  can  be  reached  in  any 
other  way  than  by  some  manly  fellows,  like  your- 
self, being  the  leaven  in  their  society.  I  come,  and 
no  matter  how  warm  my  heart  is,  they  say  it  is  cold, 


In  David  Dowling's  Study.  97 

and  I  am  only  a  religious  professional.  Here  is  the 
combination  that  will  do  it.  Some  of  their  own  kind 
and  the  preacher  with  them.  Oh,  how  God  would 
move  this  part  of  the  world  if  only  some  of  you  men 
and  the  ministry  were  banded  together.  I,  for  one, 
promise  to  go  to  the  very  end  of  duty's  path.  I  do 
not  care  where  it  leads  me.  I  have  not  been  just 
right  either.  Love  and  sympathy  and  interest  must 
play  a  greater  part  in  my  life  than  sermons  in  the 
future." 

"I  do  not  know  just  what  you  mean,"  said  Henry, 
"but  I  will  do  my  part." 

"Be  careful  how  you  say  that,  Mr.  Fielding.  Can- 
not I  call  you  Henry.    Your  sister  told  me  the  name." 

"I  would  rather  have  you  address  me  that  way," 
said  Henry. 

"All  right,"  replied  Mr.  Dowling.  "Now  I  will 
go  on.  Be  careful  how  you  say  that :  'Your  part' — 
'your  part.'  No  man  can  do  anything  for  others, 
who  is  not  first  right  with  God  himself.  That  is  the 
Divine  law.  Any  one  who  neglects  a  personal  duty, 
cannot  influence  others  for  the  right.  Any  man 
who  has  lost  himself  cannot  point  out  the  way  to 
others.  Love  for  God  precedes  love  for  man.  No, 
not  just  that.  They  are  one  and  the  same.  You 
have  said  here  to-night,  Henry,  that  you  are  not 
right  with   God.    Ycru  have  been  away   from  the 


98  In  David  Dowling's  Study. 

Church  for  years.  You  have  been  even  on  the  verge 
of  infidelity." 

"No,  I  cannot  say  that  last,"  said  Henry.  I  will 
not  own  to  that.    I  always  believed " 

"Hold  on  a  minute,"  said  Mr.  Dowling.  "Infi- 
delity has  as  much  to  do  with  the  heart  and  life  as 
with  the  head.  You  might  say  there  was  a  God,  and 
yet  be  an  infidel  to  Him,  having  no  fidelity  to  Him 
or  His  cause,  disloyal  and  untrue  to  Him,  and  to  the 
best  that  is  in  you.  Anyway,  Henry,  you  would  not 
say  that  you  were  a  Christian,  and  that  is  what  I 
want  you  to  be — saved  by  Christ's  blood,  and  that 
alone,  and  then  you  could  be  able  to  help  the  labor- 
ing men  in  Christ's  way — not  simply  to  live  a  moral 
life,  but  just  surrender  to  the  Saviour,  and  help  Him 
make  the  Church  what  it  ought  to  be.  He,  through 
you,  will  save  society,  and  that  is  the  only  way  it  ever 
will  be  saved.  It  will  take  time,  but  His  spirit  is 
destined  to  conquer.    He  needs  you." 

"I  have  never  looked  at  it  just  like  that,"  said 
Henry.  "I  have  thought  I  was  as  good  as  church 
folks,  and  as  good  as  I  could  be  under  the  working- 
man's  circumstances,  and  that  was  all  that  was  neces- 
sary." 

"Oh,  no,  Henry,  every  line  in  the  Bible  is  contrary 
to  that.  If  you  could  save  yourself.  For  what 
did  Christ  come  to  the  world  and  die?  His  blood 
was  necessary  to  your  pardon  and  your  trust  in 


In  David  Dowling's  Study.  99 

Him  and  surrender  to  Him  and  confession  of 
Him.  Make  it  yours  now  and  forever.  That  is 
the  meaning  of  being  born  again,  and  the  Church 
is  His  agent  upon  earth  to  bring  this  to  the  hearts 
and  lives  of  men.  Put  your  immortal  soul  and 
earthly  life  in  Christ's  hands,  Henry,  and  you  will 
be  a  new  man.  Oh,  what  a  mighty  influence  you 
can  wield  in  Union  No.  10.  A  thousand  times  more 
than  I  can.  I  have  even  wished  that  I  was  a  working- 
man,  and  could  belong  to  the  union  in  order  to  touch 
and  reach  other  men." 

Henry  leaned  with  both  elbows  on  the  arms  of  his 
chair,  and  looked  intently  upon  the  floor,  as  if  he  was 
counting  every  thread  in  the  carpet.  He  was  in  the 
deepest  thought  of  his  life,  but  he  really  wanted  to 
go,  and  almost  wished  he  had  not  come.  He  did 
not  expect  quite  as  much  as  this. 

Mr.  Dowling,  with  more  feeling  in  his  voice,  con- 
tinued to  tell  him  that  it  was  not  following  the  ex- 
ample of  Christ  in  order  to  be  saved  or  help  men 
most.  "It  was  the  atonement  for  sin  that  was  the 
saving  power  in  the  world,  and  the  only  power."  He 
pleaded  with  him  to  look  at  it  right  and  to  act  ac- 
cording to  his  best  convictions  at  any  cost.  He  told 
him  not  to  be  anxious,  simply  to  touch  the  surface 
of  the  trouble  in  his  own  life  or  in  the  labor  union. 

"You  need  Christ,"  he  said,  "and  so  does  your 
union— the    Carpenter   of    Nazareth,    but    also    the 


ioo         In  David  Dowling's  Study. 

Saviour  of  Calvary.  Now,  Henry,  will  you  do  your 
part?"  he  said,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

Henry  hesitated,  and  then  replied : 

"I  cannot  promise  anything  to-night.  I  thank  you 
for  the  interest,  and  really  think  more  of  you  for 
talking  this  way,  but  I  am  not  ready  to  say  jtist  now." 

"I  wish  you  would,"  said  Mr.  Dowling,  anxiously. 
"We  may  never  have  the  chance  to  talk  again." 

"I  hope  we  will,"  replied  Henry. 

"So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Dowling;  "but  in  this  world 
you  cannot  tell.  You  will  promise  me  to  think  about 
it.     Yes,  more — to  pray  about  it." 

Henry  would  rather  have  been  out  on  the  street 
just  then,  but  he  said  in  a  manly  way,  and  meant  it, 
too: 

"I  will." 

"Take  my  hand  on  that,"  said  Mr.  Dowling.  "We 
are  friends ;  your  name  will  be  in  my  prayer  every 
day." 

Henry  Fielding  passed  out  into  the  dark — no,  it 
was  the  dawn.     It  is  darkest  just  before  the  dawn. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

the;  telegram  from  home. 

The  next  Wednesday  morning,  according  to  ap- 
pointment in  the  Sunday  school  the  Sunday  previous, 
Grace  Chalmers  was  to  call  on  Elsie  to  talk  with  her 
about  a  committee  in  the  church,  on  which  they 
wanted  her  to  work — a  committee  in  the  Young 
Women's  Organization. 

Elsie  was  not  anxious  to  have  her  come,  but  her 
apartment  never  looked  so  attractive  and  spotless  as 
it  did  that  evening. 

She  was  alone,  and  waited  patiently,  supposing  that 
Grace  would  come  early,  but  it  was  now  after  eight 
o'clock,  when  she  heard  her  step  in  the  hallway. 

She  had  already  told  her  of  the  stairs,  and  their 
home,  so  different  from  hers,  and  that  changed  the 
situation  by  creating  no  surprise  and  calling  for  no 
apology. 

Grace  Chalmers  always  carried  the  same  charm 
with  her,  and  adapted  herself  to  every  condition  with 
an  art  passing  the  work  of  painter  or  musician. 

The  greatest  artist  in  the  world  may  never  have 

known  a  more  skillful  touch  upon  canvas  or  keyboard. 

No  one  was  better  named  than  Grace  Chalmers. 


102         The  Telegram  from  Home. 

They  must  have  had  the  prophet's  vision  when  they 
called  her  Grace. 

It  does  not  seem  possible  that  the  same  spirit  would 
be  equally  as  beautiful  and  attractive  in  the  palace 
of  the  rich  and  the  single  room  of  the  poor;  but  it 
was  and  is  always. 

Elsie's  room  was  midway  between  poverty  and 
riches,  and  it  was  no  exception  to  the  law  of  the 
world. 

She  entered  now,  as  always,  with  a  delightful 
familiarity  which  effectively  destroyed  formality.  It 
was  not  condescension,  but  recognition  of  the  real 
worth  of  the  world  as  being  that  of  character.  She 
considered  Elsie  as  her  equal,  and  the  mere  surface 
circumstances  of  money  or  home  was  not  able  to  de- 
stroy that  divine  equality  in  human  society. 

This  is  the  only  aristocracy.  This  is  the  only 
Christianity.  This  is  the  only  solution  of  the  social 
problem. 

Grace  Chalmers  carried  the  key  to  the  secret. 

"What!"  said  she;  "are  you  all  alone?  I  rather 
expected  to  see  your  brother  here,  too." 

"He  is  usually  with  me,"  replied  Elsie ;  "but  he  is 
away  more  lately  because  he  is  so  interested  in  these 
labor  questions,  and  especially  now  because  of  the 
great  strike  in  the  city,  and  they  are  expecting  trouble 
in  their  own  manufactory.  I  believe  they  call  it  a 
'lock-out,'  but  I  don't  know  as  I  understand  what 


The  Telegram  from  Home.         103 

that  means.  Anyway,  we  won't  talk  about  that  to- 
night." 

"Why,  yes,  we  will,"  said  Grace,  "because  I  am 
interested  in  it,  and  more  since  Mr.  Dowling  preached 
that  sermon,  and  we  have  had  so  much  talk  about  it. 
You  know  I  told  you  father  did  not  agree  with  the 
sermon,  but  that  is  not  strange,  and  whether  his  con- 
science has  been  troubling  him  or  not,  he  has  brought 
it  up  for  discussion  a  half-dozen  times  since.  I  have 
argued  with  him  about  the  minister  having  the  right 
and  duty  to  preach  about  it,  and  he  told  me  this  morn- 
ing that  I  and  the  pastor  had  both  better  find  out 
where  our  bread  and  butter  came  from.  Perhaps  I 
might  better  keep  still  and  leave  him  to  do  all  the 
talking,  but  I  cannot  help  standing  by  the  people 
who  have  the  least,  if  they  are  at  all  in  the  right. 
I  am  really  glad  your  brother  is  interested  in  the 
solution  of  these  important  questions,  and  I  hope  the 
men  will  receive  vhat  belongs  to  them.  I  would 
rather  have  my  father  do  just  right  by  the  working- 
man  and  give  me  only  half  of  what  he  now  does, 
than  not  show  the  spirit  of  Jesus  every  hour  and 
minute  of  the  day.  I  have  been  in  the  homes  of 
these  men  enough  to  know  just  how  they  feel  about 
the  rich  Christians  and  the  churches." 

Elsie  interrupted  to  say: 

"I  did  not  intend  to  start  our  conversation  in  this 


104         The  Telegram  from  Home. 

channel.  You  came  for  something  else,  and  we  girls 
do  not  know  much  about  the  labor  question." 

"I  know  this,"  said  Grace,  "that  that  is  the  great 
barrier  between  the  working  people  and  the  Church. 
I  hear  it  wherever  I  go  among  them.  If  they  had 
better  pay,  and  some  of  them  less  hours  of  work, 
and  could  wear  good  clothes,  and  always  have  their 
Sundays,  they  would  come  to  church.  Anyway, 
many  of  them  who  don't  now  would,  I  know.  Of 
course,  some  of  that  class  of  people  are  not  honest 
in  saying  that,  but  many  of  them  are.  If  I  get  a 
chance,  I  am  going  to  ask  your  brother  to  do  his 
best  to  right  every  wrong,  and  in  some  way  help  to 
get  all  these  thousands  in  touch  with  the  churches. 
My  mission  work  does  not  amount  to  much  as  it  is 
now.  All  my  giving  and  service  is  but  a  drop  in 
the  large  ocean  of  need.  There  is  a  great  Christian 
principle  which  needs  to  be  thrust  into  the  heart  of 
this  trouble." 

"That  is  what  he  says,"  replied  Elsie,  "and  that  is 
what  they  are  all  saying,  I  know;  but  what  about 
that  work  you  want  me  to  do  in  the  Church.  I  have 
been  wondering  what  it  is.  You  did  not  tell  me, 
only  made  me  inquisitive." 

"Well,  you  know  we  have  a  Young  Women's  Or- 
ganization. It  is  something  like  the  King's  Daugh- 
ters, but  does  not  go  by  that  name.  We  have  various 
committees,  and  each  with  their  own  specific  work; 


The  Telegram  from  Home.         105 

some  to  help  in  the  Church,  and  others  to  come  in 
touch  with  the  work  in  the  city,  and  to  help  the  poor. 
I  am  chairman  of  the  Missionary  Committee,  and 
we  have  confined  it  almost  entirely  to  helping  the 
needy  right  here  in  the  city.  I  want  you  to  be  on 
my  committee,  and  we  can  accomplish  more  together 
in  this  work,  I  know." 

"I  am  willing  to  do  anything  I  can,"  said  Elsie; 

"but  you  want  to  be  sure  that  I  am  the  right  one." 

"I  am  sure  of  that  already,"  said  Grace,  "and  I 

have  talked  it  over  with  Mr.  Dowling,  and  he  said 

you  are  just  the  one." 

"I  do  not  know  as  I  understand  what  I  am  to  do." 
"Why,  I  do  visiting  and  come  in  touch  with  these 
people.  I  find  out  their  real  need,  and  then  help 
them,  or  have  the  society  help  them.  But  what  they 
need  most  is  what  they  get  last,  and  that  is  some- 
body's love  and  sympathy.  Christ  did  not  have  any 
money  to  give  to  men,  but  he  just  touched  them  and 
really  loved  them  out  of  their  sin,  and  made  them 
able  to  help  themselves." 

"Well,"  said  Elsie,  "you  show  me  how,  and  I  will 

try." 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Grace.  "It  sounds  like 
rain,  and  I  thought  I  heard  it  thunder,  too." 

"It  is  raining,  I  guess,"  replied  Elsie,  going  to  the 
window  at  the  same  time  and  raising  the  curtain  to 
look  out. 


106         The  Telegram  from  Home. 

As  she  did  so,  there  was  a  faint  flash  of  lightning. 

"It  must  be  only  a  shower,"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Grace,  "because  it  did  not  look  much 
like  rain  when  I  came  out,  and  I  even  hesitated  about 
bringing  my  umbrella." 

"You  wait,  and  it  will  soon  pass  over,  and  Henry 
will  be  in  presently  to  see  you  home  all  right  if  it 
does  keep  on." 

"Oh,  no,  I  will  not  wait  for  the  rain  or  an  escort 
either.  I  am  used  to  going  alone,  and  it  is  early 
and  not  far,  and  the  streets  are  all  light." 

She  had  scarcely  finished  the  last  sentence  when 
Elsie  turned  toward  the  door  and  listened  a  moment. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is  his  step ;  I  know  it  way  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs.  He  must  have  hurried,  too,  on  account 
of  the  storm." 

Grace  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  She  was  think- 
ing what  she  would  do  now. 

Henry  was  at  the  door  before  the  decision  was 
made,  but  she  arose  just  as  he  entered,  and  said  she 
must  go,  as  she  turned  to  speak  to  him. 

He  appeared  surprised  for  a  moment,  but  it  was 
only  on  the  surface,  and  if  the  truth  was  plainly  told, 
it  was  not  the  rain  which  had  driven  him  home  early. 
He  was  quite  willing  to  be  there  before  Elsie's  caller 
had  gone.  He  said  she  need  not  go  just  because  he 
came.     If  they  had  not  finished  their  conversation, 


The  Telegram  from  Home.         107 

he  would  agree  not  to  listen,  or  interrupt,  or  he 
would  go  in  the  other  room. 

"Oh,  no,"  answered  Grace ;  "it  is  all  over,  and  you 
will  never  know  what  it  was.  It  is  a  secret,  and 
very  important,  too.     Isn't  it,  Miss  Fielding?" 

Elsie  nodded  her  head,  and  added : 

"I  will  agree  not  to  tell  him,  either." 

Grace  was  buttoning  her  jacket  and  making  prep- 
aration to  go,  but  Henry  was  not  making  any  prep- 
aration to  stay.  He  was  in  a  great  quandary.  So 
much  so  as  not  to  be  able  to  think  of  a  thing  to  say. 

He  wanted  to  go  home  with  her,  but  did  not  know 
whether  he  even  dared  to  ask  her.  "She  would  not 
want  to  be  seen  with  him,"  and  a  thousand  like  sug- 
gestions flashed  through  his  mind,  to  make  the  mo- 
ments seconds,  and  his  knees  almost  knock  together. 

What  should  he  do?  Oh,  if  Elsie  would  only  come 
to  the  rescue,  and  say,  "Henry,  you  go  home  with 
Miss  Chalmers !"  "I  would  be  a  willing  slave,  and 
not  say  a  word,"  thought  he.  But  Elsie  seemingly 
could  not  understand,  or  else  did  not  care. 

He  tried  to  motion  to  her  without  being  seen,  but 
his  deaf  and  dumb  signs  were  unread,  and  some- 
thing had  to  be  done,  and  done  right  away. 

Grace  said  that  she  had  had  a  delightful  call,  and 
turned  to  Elsie  to  say  good-night,  and  then  toward 
Henry,  but  he  interrupted. 

"You  are  not  going  alone  this  stormy  night.    You 


108        The  Telegram  from  Home. 

need  not  say  good-night  to  me.  You  can  do  that  at 
your  father's  door." 

She  began  by  saying  that  it  was  not  necessary  for 
him  to  go,  but  ended  nearer  her  heart  than  the  first 
sentence,  by  adding  that  "he  could  have  his  way 
about  it." 

There  are  moments  in  life  which  have  years  in 
them,  and  are  like  the  acorn  as  the  forerunner  of  the 
mighty  oak. 

Henry  Fielding  had  never  passed  such  a  moment  in 
feeling  or  in  fortune.  He  could  not  explain  it  or 
even  understand  it.     It  was  a  puzzle  to  himself. 

No  young  woman  had  crossed  his  path  before  with 
more  than  a  passing  notice  from  him,  but  here  was 
a  rich  girl  meeting  him  by  the  merest  chance  and 
an  impassable  chasm  between  them.  He  never  could 
bridge  that,  and  in  the  silence  he  had  said  a  score  of 
times:  "I  am  such  a  fool!"  He  had  said  also:  "She 
would  mock  the  thought  of  being  seen  in  my  com- 
pany," but  here  they  were  passing  out  of  his  own 
house  together.  "By  force,"  he  was  saying  to  him- 
self. It  was  only  like  her  father's  coachman  taking 
her  home  in  the  storm. 

When  they  reached  the  street  it  was  raining  harder 
than  ever.  She  drew  her  garments  closely  about  her. 
And  Henry  could  hardly  believe  it — he  had  almost 
unconsciously  offered  his  arm.  It  was  not  courage, 
because  that  was  not  up  to  the  necessary  mark.    It 


The  Telegram  from  Home.        109 

was  more  excitement  than  anything  else.  And  when 
she  accepted,  as  she  touched  his  sleeve,  it  was  like 
an  electric  shock.  Was  it  the  lightning  of  the 
storm  ? 

Anyway,  Henry  was  struck. 

She  said,  as  they  hastened  on : 

"This  is  so  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Fielding,  to  come  right 
out  again  in  this  dreadful  storm  for  my  sake.  The 
next  time  I  come  I  will  do  it  in  the  starlight." 

Henry  suddenly  replied : 

"I  will  pray,  then,  for  a  sudden  shower.  I  am 
satisfied  with  this,  if  it  was  not  for  you  getting  wet." 

In  a  few  moments  Grace  had  turned  their  con- 
versation toward  the  Church,  and  said : 

"I  hope  you  are  going  to  be  a  regular  attendant 
now  at  our  church.  I  know  you  will  enjoy  the  ser- 
vices, and  you  cannot  help  but  like  Mr.  Dowling." 

"I  do,"  answered  Henry;  "I  admire  him  very 
much.  He  is  a  minister  to  command  respect,  and 
I  think  he  is  on  the  right  track  now  to  reach  the  men. 
That  sermon  of  his  has  occasioned  a  vast  amount  of 
discussion  and  healthy  argument.  I  hope  he  will 
keep  on  in  that  way." 

"So  do  I,"  said  she,  with  an  emphatic  tone.  "It 
takes  courage  on  his  part,  but  everybody  respects  him 
more.  If  there  are  wrongs  burdening  the  working- 
men,  it  is  the  Gospel  which  ought,  and  Avhich  only 
can,  right  them.     The  ministers  ought  to  preach  it, 


no         The  Telegram  from  Home. 

and  the  members  of  the  Church  ought  to  live  it. 
That  may  sound  strange  from  me,  considering  who 
I  am,  but  I  love  Christ  enough  to  be  true  to  Him  in 
everything,  even  sometimes  against  my  people.  My 
sympathy  is  always  with  those  who  have  the  least  in 
this  world,  if  they  are  not  deep  in  sin  and  guilty  of 
bringing  their  own  sufferings  upon  themselves." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  said  Henry,  "and 
it  is  just  that  spirit  which  I  have  seen  lately,  which 
has  changed  my  ideas  somewhat,  and  is  changing  my 
life.  I  am  looking  at  the  ministers  differently,  and 
at  the  Church  people,  too,  with  new  and  better 
thoughts.  I  have  been  thinking  in  these  last  days 
that  perhaps  I  ought  to  bear  at  least  half  of  the  blame 
for  my  own  absence  from  the  church,  and  the  other 
men  are  in  the  same  position.  They  have  misjudged 
and  made  sweeping  condemnation  concerning  the 
Church  and  the  rich,  and  justified  themselves  in  al- 
most.every  way." 

"It  is  more  likely  true,"  said  Grace,  "that  both  are 
in  the  wrong.  Do  you  know  what  I  think?"  she  con- 
tinued. 

"No,"  answered  he.     "I  want  to  know ;  tell  me." 

"Well,  it  is  that  you  can  do  a  wonderful  thing  in 
this  world  now  for  Christ  and  your  fellow  men,  if 
you  were  a  Christian,  and  went  from  the  Church  right 
among  these  men  with  the  very  spirit  of  Christ.  That 
is  the  great  need.     I  cannot  do  half  what  you  can, 


The  Telegram  from  Home.         in 

and  I  don't  really  believe  that  Mr.  Dowling  can. 
They  want  to  see  Christ  in  the  labor  union,  and  you 
ought  to  be  his  representative,  and  show  them  how 
he  would  belong  to  the  union,  and  what  he  would 
say  and  do." 

Henry  was  almost  stunned  for  an  instant  at  her 
frankness  and  her  familiarity  in  talking  religion  to 
him.  He  did  not  realize  that  it  was  her  life,  and  that 
it  was  the  intent  of  Christianity  to  live  it  and  talk  it 
everywhere. 

He  stammered  out  in  reply  that  he  supposed  that 
she  was  right. 

They  were  now  at  her  home,  and  had  almost  for- 
gotten the  rain  and  the  distance. 

The  parting  was  touched  with  something  more  than 
mere  politeness,  and  Grace  ventured  to  say,  as  he 
turned  away,  that  he  would  be  welcome  any  time  in 
her  home. 

As  he  walked  away,  he  said  half  aloud : 

"Well,  there  is  one  exception  at  least.  The  world 
is  not  all  cold  and  selfish.  There  is  Christianity  on 
earth,  and  it  may  be  harder  for  a  rich  person  to  be 
in  the  Kingdom  of  Christ  than  the  poor.  I  think  that 
is  what  the  Bible  says." 

The  pressure  of  conviction  was  settling  down  upon 
him  with  tremendous  weight,  and  Henry  Fielding 
was  not  far  from  the  Kingdom  himself. 

The  next  morning  about  nine  o'clock  Elsie  was 


112        The  Telegram  from  Home. 

startled  by  a  sharp  ring  of  the  bell.  She  hastened  to 
open  the  door,  to  find  some  one  farthest  from  her 
thought. 

A  telegram  was  not  an  ordinary  event  in  her  life. 
This  one  was  the  first  since  she  came  to  the  city. 

She  could  hardly  wait  to  sign  the  messenger's  book 
before  she  opened  it,  and  when  he  disappeared  she 
could  scarcely  muster  the  courage.  "It  must  be 
something  important.  It  is  for  Henry,  but  it  cer- 
tainly is  for  me,  too.  Can  anything  be  the  matter 
at  home?"  And  a  countless  number  of  thought- 
flashes  crowded  into  her  mind. 

In  a  moment  she  stood  with  the  open  message  in 
her  hand. 

This  was  not  only  the  first  telegram,  but  never  be- 
fore had  that  expression  taken  posssesion  of  her  face. 

It  was  the  mingling  of  wonder  and  surprise  and 
anxiety  and  grief. 

It  read :  "Come  home  at  once.  Your  mother  is 
very  ill.  Signed,  Robert  Matthews,"  an  uncle  of 
theirs,  who  lived  near  their  old  home. 

Elsie  stood  with  that  yellow  bit  of  paper  in  her 
hand  as  one  transfixed,  and  read  it  and  re-read  it 
and  wondered  if  it  told  all  the  truth,  or  if  there  was 
more  to  be  said  that  the  message  could  not  carry. 

These  are  the  hours  when  queenliness  and  charac- 
ter are  tested. 

She  had  to  cry.    That  was  natural,   and  even 


The  Telegram  from  Home.        113 

womanly,  but  Elsie  Fielding  was  not  the  one  to  give 
loose  rein  to  imagination  or  sorrow.  Her  second 
thoughts  came  quickly. 

Blessed  be  they  and  the  heart  which  opens  for  their 
reception. 

"What  must  I  do?"  said  she,  not  "what  must  I 
feel?" 

In  a  moment  she  had  thrown  on  her  hat  and  her 
wrap,  and  was  ready  to  go  to  the  factory  to  tell 
Henry. 

Steps  were  rapid,  but  not  light. 

He  was  summoned  to  the  office  on  her  arrival,  and 
knew  that  something  important  had  brought  her,  be- 
cause this  was  the  first  time  she  had  called  him  from 
his  work. 

She  waited  with  the  telegram  in  hand,  but  ready 
to  pave  the  way  by  saying  as  he  came  toward  her : 

"Henry,  I  am  sorry  I  had  to  come,  but  this  is  not 
very  good  news.  Yet  probably  it  is  not  as  we  may 
think.  This  just  came  to  the  house/'  and  she  passed 
it  to  him. 

But  she  could  not  wait  to  tell  him,  and  perhaps 
make  it  easier. 

"It  says  mother  is  ill,  and  they  want  us  to  come." 

While  she  was  telling  the  story,  he  was  reading  it, 
and  then  stood  holding  it  for  a  moment  without  say- 
ing a  word. 

When  Henry  was  tested  he  could  not  be  hastened, 


ii4         The  Telegram  from  Home. 

and  when  his  decision  was  made  it  was  usually  the 
best. 

"I  hope  she  is  not  very  seriously  ill,"  he  said,  with 
a  sigh  following  it,  and  walked  directly  to  the  super- 
intendent's desk. 

"Mr.  Whitney,"  he  said,  "my  sister  has  just 
brought  this  message  to  me,  which  says  my  mother 
in  Vermont  is  very  ill,  and  they  want  us  to  come 
immediately.  I  must  go  right  away,  and  I  know  you 
will  have  no  objections." 

"Certainly,"  said  he,  rather  coldly.  "This  is  a  call 
which  must  be  answered.  I  hope  you  will  not  find 
it  as  serious  as  it  now  seems,"  and  he  had  already 
turned  away  before  the  last  sentence  was  finished. 

Their  mother  had  not  lost  any  of  their  love  by  their 
absence.  Each  week  the  home  letter  was  on  its  way, 
and  occasionally  more  than  once  a  week  some  word 
or  token  of  love  was  sent. 

They  had  received  her  letter  only  two  days  before 
this,  and  then  she  was  apparently  as  well  as  usual. 

"What  could  be  the  matter?"  was  the  oft-repeated 
and  oftener  thought  question. 

Henry  told  Elsie  to  hurry  home  and  get  all  ready 
and  he  would  go  to  the  depot  or  some  ticket 
office  and  find  out  when  the  first  and  best  train  went. 

He  discovered  that  it  left  at  twelve  o'clock,  and 
gave  them  only  about  two  hours  to  make  preparation. 


The  Telegram  from  Home.         115 

"But  we  can  do  it,"  said  he,  as  he  partially  ran 
down  the  street  and  toward  their  home. 

No  time  was  lost,  and  at  five  minutes  before  the 
hour  they  were  on  the  train,  and  had  scarcely  taken 
time  to  think  of  the  object  of  their  journey.  At  least, 
not  any  time  to  talk  about  it. 

Now  they  had  the  afternoon,  and  it  was  crowded 
with  wonder  and  increasing  anxiety. 

They  knew  about  their  mother's  trial  with  their 
brother  Will,  and  her  deep  sorrow  over  his  life. 

He  had  grown  wild  and  even  dissipated.  They 
feared  she  had  not  told  them  the  darkest  side  of  it. 

That  was  the  real  condition.     She  had  not. 

Out  of  her  love  for  them,  her  mother's  heart  had 
encircled  all  of  her  own  trouble,  and  she  had  lived 
on  hope  that  her  counsel  and  prayer  would  prevail, 
but  each  day  had  increased  his  appetite  for  strong 
drink,  and  almost  each  night  of  his  life  he  came  home 
intoxicated. 

She  never  gave  him  up,  nor  did  she  ever  threaten. 

She  only  pleaded  with  him  and  prayed  to  God. 

Never  a  night  had  she  rested  until  he  was  in  his 
room,  and  then  she  would  kneel  at  his  bedside  and 
pray  for  her  boy  that  he  might  be  saved. 

Sometimes  he  was  too  stupid  to  know  that  she 
was  there — even  though  she  held  his  hand,  and  her 
hot  tears  were  falling  upon  it. 


n6        The  Telegram  from  Home. 

At  other  times  it  angered  him,  and  he  had  even 
cursed  her  while  she  prayed. 

That  had  almost  taken  her  life,  but  it  never  tri- 
umphed over  her  love  and  faith. 

Last  night  he  had  come  home  at  midnight  in  sadder 
condition  and  meaner  disposition  than  ever  before. 

The  light  was  in  his  room.  The  bed  was  open 
for  him  as  usual.  His  mother  was  waiting.  As 
sweetly  as  an  angel,  she  spoke  to  him,  but  received 
no  reply. 

He  was  intoxicated  almost  to  insanity.  It  was 
temporary  insanity. 

She  kneeled  at  his  side  again  and  made  her  accus- 
tomed plea  and  prayer,  which  seemed  to  enrage  him 
and  make  him  almost  a  demon. 

He  leaped  from  the  bed  upon  which  his  drunken 
form  had  rolled,  and  struck  her.  She  fell  to  the 
floor  in  unconsciousness. 

Instantly  what  he  had  done  almost  sobered  him. 
He  kneeled  down  and  tried  to  lift  her  up,  but  she 
was  the  same  as  dead. 

He  thought  that  she  was  dead.  His  efforts  to  re- 
vive her  were  of  no  avail.  The  passing  moments 
of  fright  almost  drove  the  effect  of  the  alcohol  away. 

The  horror  of  an  hour  had  passed  by,  and  no 
change. 

"Oh,  my  God,"  he  cried,  "I  am  a  murderer." 


The  Telegram  from  Home.         117 

Before  the  morning  his  decision  had  been  made, 
and  he  had  fled. 

Her  brother  by  chance  came  to  the  farm-house  in 
the  morning,  and  made  the  awful  discovery.  The 
blood  was  upon  her  forehead,  and  just  a  faint  sign 
of  life  remained. 

Imagination  revealed  the  dark  secret. 

Henry  and  Elsie  thought  most  everything,  but  little 
had  they  thought  of  this. 

The  Vermont  hills,  through  which  they  passed  late 
in  the  afternoon,  were  never  so  beautiful  as  then  in 
their  autumnal  glory. 

It  seemed  as  if  a  great  avalanche  of  color  had 
swept  down  the  mountain  sides,  or  like  the  resting 
place  of  countless  rainbows. 

The  trees  were  all  ablaze  with  color,  and  the  val- 
leys marked  with  richest  farms  and  gardens. 

The  golden  sunset  added  to  the  wonder  of  nature, 
and  the  reflection  of  heaven  upon  earth,  and  yet  these 
two  travelers  were  blind  to  it  all. 

We  see  through  our  hearts  more  than  our  eyes. 

Every  man  has  his  own  world,  and  he  carries  it 
with  him. 

To  the  joyful  heart,  snowflakes  are  jewels  and 
grass  blades  are  diamond  sceptres,  but  to  the  sad 
they  are  both  only  common  carpet,  to  be  trodden 
upon,  and  even  then  to  hurt  the  feet. 


n8        The  Telegram  from  Home. 

Their  uncle  was  waiting  for  them  at  the  depot. 

He  had  the  hardest  task  of  his  life  in  hand.  He 
was  a  farmer,  but  sensitive  in  nature. 

He  was  just  the  man  to  break  the  sad  news. 

He  did  not  rush  right  into  the  dark  facts,  but  by 
a  gradual  approach  and  winding  pathway,  he  re- 
vealed the  true  condition. 

Their  anxiety  tried  to  hasten  him,  but  he  knew  the 
better  way. 

When  at  last  it  dawned  upon  them  that  their 
mother  was  dead,  Elsie  had  to  give  way,  and  her 
tender  heart  almost  broke  in  grief. 

Henry's  sorrow  was  just  as  deep,  and  too  bitter  for 
him  to  weep  or  speak. 

Everything  was  stamped  with  sacred  memories 
about  that  whole  section  of  country,  and  each  tree  and 
stone  of  the  old  farm  was  written  all  over  with  unseen 
letters,  but  now  the  last  remnant  of  attraction  and 
interest,  and  even  love  for  it  all,  had  vanished. 

Henry  Fielding  said  afterward  that  he  almost  hated 
the  sight  of  these  familiar  and  once  loved  things. 

The  centre  from  which  radiated  all  the  charm  was 
gone. 

There  is  not  so  much  in  external  circumstances 
as  we  estimate.  They  receive  their  value  from  some- 
thing else. 

One    of    the    first    thoughts    which    flashed    into 


The  Telegram  from  Home.         119 

Henry's  mind  was  as  usual :  "Now,  I  must  play  the 
part  of  a  man  and  a  brother.  This  is  harder  for 
Elsie  than  for  me.  She  is  tender  and  weak  and  can- 
not bear  what  I  can.  I  must  get  my  arm  around 
her;"  and  he  did,  both  figuratively  and  literally. 

She  sobbed  out  the  bitterest  tears  of  her  life  on  his 
shoulder. 

Oh,  what  a  kingship  is  that?  The  first  thought 
of  others. 

In  the  Providence  of  God,  and  in  the  laws  of  the 
world,  that  is  the  most  triumphant  method  of  bear- 
ing sorrow  and  enduring  suffering. 

Thought  of  others  is  Heaven's  remedy  for  self. 

He  went  alone  to  wipe  away  his  great  tears,  and 
stayed  with  Elsie  to  comfort. 

They  were  more  to  each  other  than  ever  now. 

Another  dream  of  Henry's  life  had  been  blasted. 
His  ambition  for  his  mother,  and  his  care  of  her  had 
never  come  to  realization,  and  in  this  awful  tragedy 
she  had  left  them,  but  there  had  entered  into  his 
life  a  new  force  recently,  and  he  did  not  become 
embittered,  but  even  told  Elsie  several  times,  "It 
must  be  for  the  best.  Anyway,  mother  had  better  in 
heaven  than  he  could  ever  have  hoped  to  give  her  on 
earth,  and  he  did  not  have  prospects  for  anything  for 
her  just  at  present.  She  has  a  mansion  now,  and  no 
mortgage  on  it,  either." 


120         The  Telegram  from  Home. 

These  were  days  which  seemed  months.  So  many 
changes,  so  much  sorrow,  and  events  beyond  realiza- 
tion. 

As  they  entered  the  train  to  return,  Henry  said : 
"Elsie,  I  never  want  to  come  back  again." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A    MINISTER    IN    THE    UNION. 

Ever  since  David  Dowling  had  publicly  asked  the 
question:  "WoJd  Christ  join  a  labor  union?"  the 
mail  had  brought  to  him  half  a  dozen  or  more  letters 
daily  in  reference  to  it.  Most  of  them  were  from 
union  men,  thanking  him  for  his  interest  and  elo- 
quent sermon.  Some  of  them  were  in  the  spirit  of 
criticism,  and  a  few  even  went  so  far  as  to  denounce 
him  for  not  having  the  spirit  of  a  true  radical. 

He  walked  into  his  study  one  eventful  morning  in 
his  life  with  a  number  of  sealed  letters  in  one  hand 
and  an  open  one  in  the  other.  He  paused  at  the 
table,  and  then  moved  toward  the  window,  where  he 
stood  looking  out,  in  deepest  thought. 

Many  questions  were  forcing  their  way  into  his 
honest  heart.  "Had  he  gone  too  far  in  this  matter? 
Was  it  a  part  of  his  duty?  Had  he  said  just  right 
in  that  one  sermon,  and  in  all  other  things  he  had 
uttered  since  ?    What  ought  he  to  do  now  ?"  etc. 

No  one  of  these  was  receiving  a  very  satisfactory 
answer,  and  in  fact  they  came  so  fast  that  one 
crowded  out  the  other. 

He  held  up  the  open  letter  and  began  to  read  it 


122  A  Minister  in  the  Union. 

over  again.  It  was  from  a  union  man,  and  appar- 
ently a  thoughtful  man  and  earnest  soul.  It  read 
as  follows: 

"Would  Jesus  be  a  trade  unionist?  Though  no 
conditions  are  stated  in  the  above  query,  they  are 
nevertheless  implied,  and  it  is  really,  therefore,  a 
hypothetical  question.  If  present  conditions  are  as- 
sumed to  be  the  natural  and  permanent  state  of  the 
world,  then  it  seems  evident  to  me  that  Jesus,  as 
the  champion  of  the  poor  and  the  oppressed,  would 
advocate  the  formation  of  labor  unions  by  working- 
men  to  wrest  from  their  masters  a  larger  share  of 
the  wealth  which  their  own  toil  is  producing;  he 
would  under  such  conditions  be  a  trade  unionist. 

"But  we  know  that  the  continuance  of  present  con- 
ditions is  impossible.  Such  an  assumption  would  be 
foolish.  Jesus  knew  very  well  that  change  is  the 
order  of  the  universe.  Whether  we  consider  him  as 
divine  or  human,  He  was  more  than  a  workman  en- 
deavoring to  earn  an  honest  living  for  himself  and 
family.  He  was  a  teacher  of  eternal  truth,  a  prophet 
of  a  true  order  of  human  life,  an  evangel  of  justice 
and  brotherhood  among  men,  a  revolutionist  of 
transcendent  genius  and  ability,  who  desired  the  over- 
throw of  all  wrong  and  the  establishment  of  what 
He  called  the  'Kingdom  of  God'  'on  earth  as  it  is 
in  heaven.' 

"Such  being  his  ideal,  it  is  as  impossible  to  imagine 


A  Minister  in  the  Union.  123 

Jesus  as  a  trade  unionist  as  it  is  to  imagine  a  trade 
union  in  heaven.  Were  He  among  us  to-day, 
He  would  view  life  from  a  standpoint  too  lofty;  He 
would  be  undermining  wrongs  too  deep;  He  would 
be  destroying  ideas  too  all-pervading,  and  inculcating 
a  philosophy  too  broad  and  all-embracing  in  its  hu- 
manity to  have  a  place  in  a  movement  which  has  for 
its  object  the  elevation  of  any  class,  no  matter  how 
large  or  deserving  that  class  might  be. 

"Jesus  was  not  and  could  not  be  the  'practical' 
man  who  takes  off  his  coat  and  attacks  specific  abuses 
with  a  club.  His  mission  was  the  proclamation  of 
eternal  verities.  He  saw  clearly  that,  so  long  as  men 
are  inspired  by  the  desire  to  get  the  better  of  each 
other  in  any  degree  whatever,  the  coming  of  His 
'kingdom'  is  in  that  degree  retarded.  Now,  then, 
could  He  have  a  part  in  a  movement  having  for  its 
object  the  supremacy  of  organized  labor? 

"Any  tool  for  the  accomplishment  of  a  specific  pur- 
pose is  the  best  until  a  better  is  devised;  the  trade 
union  is  the  best  tool  known  to  large  numbers  of  men, 
but  it  by  no  means  follows  that  it  is  the  best  possible, 
nor  that  the  objects  now  sought  by  these  organiza- 
tions are  the  best,  even  for  their  members.  Jesus,  if 
He  again  walked  among  us,  would  certainly  see  far 
ahead  of  us,  as  He  did  nineteen  centuries  ago.  He 
would  certainly  follow  the  same  methods  of  estab- 
lishing justice  among  men  that  He  saw  were  best 


124  A  Minister  in  the  Union. 

then.  These  methods  are  far  richer  in  possibilities 
than  any  adopted  by  the  trade  unions.  Nothing  can 
supply  the  lack  of  a  desire  for  justice  among-  men, 
and  He  would  again  seek  to  instill  that  desire  into 
the  hearts  of  men,  keeping  Himself  above  the  petty 
squabbles  which  are  the  curse  of  the  human  life. 
It  is  probable,  also,  that  for  this  very  reason  He  would 
be  received  by  men  now  in  much  the  same  way  that 
He  was  received  before,  for  mankind  is  not  yet  done 
with  crucifying  its  Christs  and  enthroning  its  Caesars. 

"Can  we  imagine  Jesus  as  'working  under  cover' 
or  countenancing  it  by  others  ?  Can  we  think  of  him 
as  refusing  to  allow  a  man  to  work  because  he  did 
not  belong  to  the  union?  Can  we  conceive  of  Him 
as  aiding  in  the  establishment  of  a  boycott  or  in  other 
ways  seeking  revenge  for  any  injury,  no  matter  how 
great  ?  Can  we  even  think  of  Him  as  trying  to  com- 
pel a  fellow-man  to  join  a  union?  If  we  cannot 
imagine  Him  as  doing  these  things,  it  is  idle  to  imag- 
ine Him  as  a  trade  unionist.  Instead,  He  would  be 
foremost  in  the  attacks  on  those  fundamental  wrongs 
which  force  the  trade  union  into  existence  and  com- 
pel it  to  assume  a  semi-military  discipline  over  its 
members  and  over  its  enemies  as  well,  whenever  pos- 
sible. 

"Among  the  stands  I  can  imagine  Jesus  as  taking 
were  He  to  come  among  us  and  preach  again,  would 
be  that  of  uncompromising  hostility  to  all  forms  of 


A  Minister  in  the  Union.  125 

slavery.  Whether  this  was  the  slavery  of  men  to 
the  owners  of  the  earth  and  its  resources,  the  owners 
of  the  rain  that  falls  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust, 
of  the  methods  and  processes  of  labor,  the  privilege 
of  making  and  issuing  money,  the  nation's  highways 
and  means  of  transportation  and  of  transmitting  in- 
telligence, or  of  any  other  wrongful  privilege  con- 
ferred by  law.  I  can  only  imagine  Jesus  as  bending 
all  energies  to  the  complete  overthrow  of  this  slavery 
by  preaching  the  truth  that  will  make  men  free,  with- 
out bowing  his  head  in  compromise  with  anything 
that  conflicts  therewith. 

"Jesus  would  be  a  revolutionist  of  the  most  radical 
type,  as  He  was  before,  standing  for  all  the  rights 
of  man  and  against  everything  that  violated  them 
a  hair's  breadth.  He  would  again  be  accused  of 
turning  the  world  upside  down,  and  perhaps  would 
be  executed.  But  He  would  not  be  a  trade  unionist 
as  that  term  is  defined  and  understood  to-day." 

It  was  a  long  letter,  but  not  uninteresting  to  him, 
and  occasioned  many  pauses  as  he  read  it.  At  last 
he  sat  down  and  bowed  his  head  on  the  table,  and  by 
chance  (no,  our  chance  is  God's  providence)  his  right 
hand  rested  upon  the  open  Bible,  and  in  his  left  hand 
he  still  held  the  letter. 

After  a  moment's  thinking,  which  was  in  reality 
prayer — what  is  prayer  but  the  heart's  desire  after 
God  and  His  will? — he  raised  his  eyes,  and  at  the 


126  A  Minister  in  the  Union. 

first  glance  he  discovered  that  not  only  were  his 
hands  resting  upon  the  sacred  page,  but  that  his  index 
finger  pointed  directly  to  the  line,  "I  have  given  you 
an  example." 

Almost  unconsciously,  he  said:  "Thank  God  for 
this  light  on  my  pathway.  Christ  died  to  save  man, 
and  He  lived  to  show  them  how  to  work  out  that 
salvation.  It  is  atonement  and  example  eternally 
united,  and  ought  to  enter  into  my  ministry,  and  into 
every  workingman's  life.  No  man  ought  to  do  any- 
thing that  Christ  could  not  do,  or  belong  to  any  or- 
ganization that  Christ  could  not  join.  He  not  only 
gave  the  theory  of  life  but  the  pattern  also.  He  is 
the  only  example  for  a  labor  union  man,  as  well  as 
a  minister.  This  is  the  great  mistake  about  religion 
and  about  Christ — that  he  could  not  do  and  be  what 
other  men  under  existing  conditions  can  be  and  are 
compelled  to  do  and  be.  The  very  essence  of  Chris- 
tianity is  "that  Jesus  was  a  man  as  well  as  God,  and 
His  life  in  the  carpenter  shop  was  a  part  of  His  re- 
demptive work  as  fully  as  was  His  death  on  Cal- 
vary. His  relation  to  the  other  carpenters  of  Naza- 
reth and  their  organization,  to  the  fisherman  of  Gali- 
lee and  their  union,  was  one  of  active  service  in  be- 
half of  honest  labor." 

Mr.  Dowling  then  glanced  down  at  the  letter  again, 
and  thought :  "Here  is  the  fallacy — they  make 
Christ  an  unreal  factor  to-day.     'He  had  the  boldest 


A  Minister  in  the  Union.  127 

hostility  to  all  forms  of  slavery.'  Of  course  he  had, 
and  the  labor  union  has  no  right  to  exist  if  that  is  not 
its  righteous  mission,  too.  Their  work  is  his,  their 
interests  are  His,  their  liberty  and  justice  and  salva- 
tion are  His." 

David  Dowling  paused  in  his  rapid  thought,  and 
said  to  himself: 

"Now,  let  me  get  this  right ;  is  there  any  difference, 
except  in  degree,  between  Christ's  life  and  mine? 
Could  I  belong  to  a  labor  union  ?  Could  any  Chris- 
tian man?  If  so,  why  not  then  Christ  himself?  No 
reason  in  the  world,  or  else  there  ought  not  to  be  a 
labor  union.  If  some  of  the  methods  are  wrong, 
Jesus  would  help  make  them  right,  and  so  will  I, 
God  help  me. 

"They  make  my  Christ  unreal,  and  His  life  differ- 
ent from  that  of  other  men.  God  did  not  intend  it  to 
be  so.  That  makes  Christianity  heathenism.  Christ 
would  do  exactly  what  any  other  man  before  God 
has  the  right  to  do.  Oh,  to  teach  men  this,  and  the 
divine  purpose  concerning  individual  life  and  society. 
I  must  be  more  of  a  Christ  myself  to  my  fellow- 
men.  I  have  taken  His  name.  I  am  His  representa- 
tive to-day,  and  because  the  ministers  stand  such  a 
distance  from  these  men  and  their  unions,  they  think 
that  is  what  Christ  would  do,  only  to  a  greater  degree. 
It  is  not  true;  it  is  not  true!  The  workingmen  are 
not  all  to  blame.     There  is  one  preacher  who  will  do 


128  A  Minister  in  the  Union. 

better.  If  I  have  to  learn  a  trade  to  get  in  the  union 
and  influence  the  men  and  show  them  Christ,  I  will 
do  it.  Perhaps  a  trade  would  be  better  for  some  of 
us  than  a  theological  seminary.  We  might  reach 
men  better  if  we  handled  a  saw  of  steel  than  the  saw 
of  some  old  commentary. 

"Paul  was  a  tent  maker.  He  touched  men  and 
saved  them." 

It  was  now  time  for  David  Dowling  to  make  his 
Sunday  sermon,  but  he  was  at  more  important  busi- 
ness. In  reality,  he  was  making  sermons  by  a  new 
and  better  method.  He  was  listening  to  conscience, 
studying  men,  thinking  of  Christ  and  His  relation  to 
the  millions  of  workingmen.  That  was  a  sermon  not 
to  be  written,  but  to  be  preached  with  sublimest  elo- 
quence— the  oratory  and  rhetoric  and  elocution  and 
logic  of  a  concentrated  life. 

He  was  tearing  the  last  rag  of  formalism  and  pro- 
fessionalism from  his  calling  and  just  lifting  up 
Christ,  so  that  all  the  men  should  be  drawn  to  Him. 

It  was  beginning  right,  because  he  was  in  Gethse- 
mane  now  with  Jesus.  He  knew  how  some  of  his 
people  felt,  and  what  some  of  his  best  supporters 
had  said,  and  the  conflict  raged. 

The  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  and  they  were 
touched  with  crimson,  too. 

"Oh,  Lord  Jesus,"  said  he,  "help  me  to  set  my  face 
to  go  steadfastly  to  my  Jerusalem.     May  I  not  go  to 


A  Minister  in  the  Union.  129 

extremes.  May  I  not  be  deaf  to  duty's  call  or  blind 
to  the  beckoning  of  Thy  pierced  hand  ?  I  will  come. 
I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  show  men  Thy  sympa- 
thy and  Thy  willingness  to  belong  to  any  union  whose 
purpose  is  worthy  and  enters  into  the  redemption  of 
human  society.  Show  me  the  path,  and  if  it  is  only 
one  step  at  a  time  I'll  take  it." 

If  every  member  of  the  labor  organizations  could 
have  been  witnesses  to  that  scene,  and  heard  that  holy 
prayer,  and  known  the  deeper  desire  in  his  soul,  how 
differently  they  would  look  at  the  minister.  Yes, 
even  at  the  Saviour  of  men. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  day  in  one  min- 
ister's life,  and  it  found  its  closing  in  a  new  experi- 
ence, and  a  very  bright  one  for  Mr.  Dowling. 

This  was  the  night  for  his  address  in  Union  No.  10. 

He  had  tried  so  many  times  in  the  past  days  to  de- 
cide upon  what  he  should  say  on  that  occasion,  and 
had  torn  up  several  abstracts  and  plans. 

All  day  the  same  battle  was  on,  and  no  good  speech 
had  come  into  his  possession  when  night  reached  him, 
but  he  was  not  nervous. 

There  was  a  confidence  in  God  which  was  his  now, 
and  always  comes  to  the  consecrated  man. 

According  to  the  agreement  when  the  invitation 
was  given,  Henry  and  Richard  called  for  him. 

There  had  been  added  another  knot  in  the  tie  which 


130  A  Minister  in  the  Union. 

bound  Henry  to  him,  not  known  by  Mr.  Dowling, 
but  Henry  was  perfectly  conscious  of  it. 

In  the  hour  of  sorrow  he  had  pushed  his  great 
heart  of  sympathy  against  Henry's  heart,  and  left 
an  impress  upon  it  never  to  be  obliterated.  It  was 
language  intelligible  and  indelible. 

Elsie's  tender  and  saddened  heart  had  also  known 
the  power  of  love's  contact  as  never  before,  because 
both  Mr.  Dowling  and  Grace  had  been  so  helpful,  and 
carried  the  needed  comfort  at  the  most  trying  time 
of  her  life.  Flowers  had  been  sent  to  her,  but  the 
flowers  most  fragrant  and  lasting  were  those  which 
angel  hands  had  picked  in  the  garden  for  her — atten- 
tion, sympathy  and  sacrifice. 

Mr.  Dowling  was  all  ready,  except  his  speech,  when 
the  young  men  arrived.  He  met  them  at  the  door, 
and  said : 

"You  might  have  thought  I  would  not  be  ready 
and  was  not  anxious  to  go,  but  you  see  I  am." 

He  walked  down  the  steps  between  the  two,  and 
for  a  moment  took  hold  of  their  arms  as  a  sign  which 
every  man  understands.     It  was  real  friendship. 

Henry  said :  "I  am  sure  you  art  not  so  glad  to  go 
as  we  are  to  have  you.     Isn't  that  right,  Dick?" 

"That's  so,"  quickly  answered  Richard. 

"Yes,"  said  Henry,  "this  is  the  night  that  I  have 
been  most  anxious  to  go  to  a  union  meeting  of  any 
time  in  my  life.     I  believe  there  is  great  good  in  it." 


A  Minister  in  the  Union.  131 

"I  hope  there  will  be,"  replied  Mr.  Dowling.  "I 
am  sure  if  you  men  know  how  dead  in  earnest  I  am 
in  the  desire  to  change  the  present  condition  of  both 
the  workingmen  in  their  relation  to  the  employer,  and 
also  in  relation  to  the  Church,  they  would  listen  and 
stand  by  me,  too." 

"Here  are  two  fellows  who  will,"  said  Richard. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Dowling ;  "that  makes  me 
feel  better  and  gives  me  security ;  a  certain  backing, 
and  I  will  depend  upon  you." 

"Well,"  said  Henry,  "I  am  the  one  who  wanted 
you  there,  and  I  propose  to  help  you  all  I  can.  You 
just  go  ahead  to-night  and  say  what  you  think — 
something  like  the  sermon  would  not  hurt,  and  even 
more  along  that  same  line.  I  rather  think  they  will 
expect  it,  but  I  will  not  make  any  suggestion.  You 
probably  have  it  all  ready." 

David  Dowling  hardly  knew  what  to  say  now,  be- 
cause he  had  several  lines  of  thought  in  his  mind,  and 
was  just  trusting  to  Christ's  help  to  formulate  them, 
and  he  replied : 

"No,  I  have  not  fixed  it  exactly,  but,  anyway,  you 
may  be  sure  that  I  will  do  what  Christ  desires,  as  near 
as  I  know  it.  I  stand  for  him,  you  know,  and  this 
is  one  way  at  least  for  Christ  to  belong  to  a  labor 
union.'  " 

When  they  reached  the  door  and  entered,  the  meet- 
ing had  just  been  opened.     Some  business  was  being 


132  A  Minister  in  the  Union. 

transacted.  All  eyes  were  turned  upon  David  Dow- 
ling  as  he  sat  down  near  the  door  next  to  Henry. 
There  was  great  expectancy.  It  was  an  innovation, 
and  the  interest  in  it  had  called  out  the  largest  meet- 
ing they  had  held  for  a  long  time — if  not  the  largest 
ever  seen  in  that  union. 

Everything  was  quickly  dispatched,  so  as  to  come 
to  the  address  and  the  open  meeting. 

If  ever  a  man  was  controlled  by  a  burning  desire 
to  do  the  right  thing,  David  Dowling  was  that  man 
now.  He  was  saying  to  himself :  "Anything  for  thee, 
my  Christ.  Help  me  to  be  true  and  fair,  and  show 
Thee  in  the  right  light." 

When  he  arose  to  speak,  there  was  a  ripple  of  ap- 
plause, but  not  enthusiastic,  because  most  of  the  men 
did  not  know  what  attitude  to  assume,  and  some  of 
them  had  even  voted  against  his  coming. 

He  walked  to  the  front  and  said: 

"Gentlemen,  I  thank  you  for  this  honor,  which  I 
consider  one  of  the  greatest  of  my  life,  because  of 
the  importance  of  the  occasion  and  because  of  the 
confidence  you  have  manifested  in  me.  I  believe  we 
are  one  in  desire,  and  nearer  to  each  other  than  you 
think.  My  work  is  different  from  yours,  but  I  prom- 
ise you  now  that  my  purpose  is  the  same — in  helping 
the  cause  of  justice  and  humanity. 

"We  have  been  separated  too  long  by  misunder- 
standing, and  the  enemies  of  us  both  have  misrepre- 


A  Minister  in  the  Union.  133 

sented  us.  I  hope  this  event  to-night  will  be  the 
dawn  of  a  new  era  in  the  relation  of  the  Church 
to  labor. 

"Your  call  to  me  came  from  my  venturing  to  ask 
the  question,  which  I  consider  a  vital  one  to  you  as 
well  as  to  myself :  'Would  Christ  join  a  labor  union  ?' 
I  said  'Yes'  then;  I  say,  more  emphatically,  'Yes,' 
now." 

There  was  a  shadow  of  excitement  and  a  rustle  of 
whispering  as  he  continued : 

"If  the  union  has  a  right  to  existence  in  human 
society,  and  I  believe  it  has,  Christ  would  belong  to 
it,  if  he  was  a  carpenter  in  this  city  as  he  was  a  car- 
penter in  Nazareth.  If  he  came  to  the  world  in 
human  form  to-day,  the  divine  plan  would  not  be 
changed.     It  was  the  plan  of  the  eternities. 

"If  He  came  to  your  city  as  his  dwelling  place, 
He  would  learn  His  trade,  and  join  the  union  for 
protection,  and  for  the  ultimate  redemption  of  all 
men.  He  would  be  one  of  your  number  to-night. 
Yes,  He  is,  and  would  say,  'Come  unto  Me  all  ye  who 
labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.' 

"His  mission  is  not  outside  of  the  circle  of  labor. 
He  began  at  the  centre  in  the  carpenter  shop,  and 
will  not  give  up  until  His  scarred  hand  touches  every 
part  of  the  circumference,  and  His  power  regenerates 
the  whole. 

"Now,  I  did  not  come  here  to  preach.     I  invite 


134  A  Minister  in  the  Union. 

you  all  to  come  to  my  church  to  hear  the  sermon, 
and  perhaps  there  will  not  be  as  much  'preach'  in  that 
as  you  think  there  is,  but  I  am  here  now  to  say  some 
things  to  you  which  lie  at  the  very  core  of  my  heart. 

"You  would  not  want  me  to  be  hypocritical.  I 
cannot  be,  if  you  do.  I  never  spoke  in  my  life  with 
such  conviction  and  such  blood-earnest  desire." 

The  men  looked  more  intently  at  him,  and  some  of 
them  even  nodded  to  each  other.  He  had  not  only 
gained  their  attention,  but  he  already  had  the  respect 
and  confidence  of  most  of  his  auditors. 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  continued: 

"I  propose  to  say  something  about  myself  first,  and 
then  something  concerning  you  and  your  work.  If 
you  have  misunderstood  me  and  my  methods,  let  me 
change  that  feeling,  if  I  can.  Do  not  be  prejudiced. 
Listen  and  pass  your  own  judgment. 

"I  sat  a  few  hours  ago  by  the  side  of  a  young  man 
— he  is  now  dead.  He  was  dying  of  consumption, 
and  they  sent  for  me.  He  was  a  member  of  one  of 
the  labor  unions.  He  was  perfectly  conscious  until 
his  death,  and  died  while  I  was  there.  What  was  my 
first  business  in  his  presence  and  the  presence  of 
death  ?  Every  man  of  you  will  answer  at  once,  'To 
do  all  in  my  power  to  make  that  poor  fellow  ready  to 
meet  God.  To  help  him  in  the  final  preparation  for 
the  next  world.' 

"It  would  be  folly  and  criminal  to  talk  to  him 


A  Minister  in  the  Union.  135 

about  this  world,  and  trades,  and  work,  and  the 
wrongs  of  society.  Eternity  was  just  ahead  of  him, 
anil  was  the  only  reality  now. 

"That  is  only  an  incident  which  illustrates  the  char- 
acter of  my  whole  life.  I  stand  on  the  edge  of  the 
grave  between  immortal  souls  and  their  destiny. 

"My  first  business  must  necessarily  be  their  salva- 
tion hereafter.  You  say  I  am  too  other-worldly. 
How  can  I  be  otherwise  ?  Yes,  how  can  any  think- 
ing man  put  the  next  world  secondary  to  this  ?  If 
the  preacher  is  'too  other-worldly,'  most  men  are  too 
much  'this-worldly.' 

"The  fact  is  that  you  cannot  separate  the  two 
worlds.  The  divine  plan  is  to  save  men  in  this  by 
saving  them  for  the  next. 

"If  you  thought  that  I  ought  to  preach  only  con- 
cerning the  questions  of  the  hour  and  solve  the  social 
problems,  you  have  mistaken  Christ's  work  on  earth 
and  made  Calvary  only  a  tragedy  instead  of  the  atone- 
ment for  sin. 

"I  have  declared  that  Christ  would  belong  to  a 
labor  union,  and  I  will  belong  to  yours,  if  you  will 
have  me,  and  help  you  all  I  can." 

Henry  and  Richard  started  applause,  but  it  did  not 
reach  a  wave,  only  a  ripple. 
Mr.  Dowling  continued : 
"But  Christ  would  make  His  sacrifice  for  sin  the 


136  A  Minister  in  the  Union. 

foundation  of  all  salvation  for  society.  He  was  not 
only  an  example.  He  was  infinitely  more.  I  am 
going  to  deal  with  social  questions  and  your  wrongs, 
but  I  must  begin  always  at  the  Cross.  If  you  think 
it  otherwise,  you  have  mistaken  my  sacred  mission 
and  the  relation  of  salvation  here  to  salvation  here- 
after. Another  thing  I  want  you  to  know  about  me 
and  my  ministry.  I  do  not  fear  any  man  on  earth, 
and  I  am  not  catering  to  any  individual  or  any  class. 
Your  position  is  upon  the  outside,  and  many  of  you 
do  not  hear  the  sermons,  and  you  cannot  pass  right 
judgment.  At  least,  do  not  make  wholesale  condem- 
nations. Many  ministers  are  sacrificing  everything 
for  truth's  sake,  and  have  even  given  up  pulpits  and 
salaries  and  friends  and  all.  They  are  ready  to  stand 
by  you,  if  you  will  only  stand  by  them.  Here  is  one 
of  them,  anyway!  My  last  drop  of  blood  is  yours, 
and  out  it  goes  in  your  cause  for  right.  My  church 
is  open  to  you;  other  churches  are  anxious  for  you. 
The  best  place  is  yours.  If  it  is  not,  I  will  resign 
my  pulpit  to-morrow.  I  wish  we  could  form  some 
mutual  understanding — some  better  relation.  I  wish 
you  had  honorary  members,  or  some  class  to  which 
I  could  belong.  I  stand  for  Christ,  and  I  would  like 
to  be  in  your  organization.  I  would  like  to  have 
every  one  of  you  in  the  Church,  and  there  are  more 
workingmen  in  the  Church  than  statistics  represent 


A  Minister  in  the  Union.  137 

and  pessimists  believe.  Most  of  you  are  right  near 
its  doors. 

"Now,  let  me  ask  a  vital  question  about  yourselves. 

"Suppose  Christ  was  a  member  of  this  union. 
Would  everything  in  it  be  just  as  it  is  to-night? 
Would  not  some  of  the  plans  be  changed?  Would 
not  the  Golden  Rule  be  the  motto?  Would  not  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  enter  into  all  your  relations 
with  other  men  ?  You  could  not  have  Christ  in  here 
without  having  His  spirit  and  example.  I  am  sure 
some  speeches  would  not  be  made,  and  some  hasty 
actions  would  not  be  taken.  Our  employers  would  be 
treated  as  we  ask  them  to  treat  us,  with  fairness  and 
justice  and  sympathy.  I  do  not  say  there  would  not 
be  a  strike,  but  every  possible  means  to  prevent  it 
would  be  first  exhausted.  We  would  recognize  duty 
and  obligation  and  fidelity,  and  the  other  side  as  well 
as  our  own.  Bitterness,  and  anger,  and  malice,  and 
envy,  and  vengeance  would  not  enter  into  our  discus- 
sion or  our  actions. 

"Also,  if  Christ  would  belong  to  your  union,  and 
help  your  cause,  you  ought  to  belong  to  His  Church 
and  help  His  cause,  out  of  which  the  union  and  every 
other  righteous  institution  grew.  If  the  Church  is 
not  just  as  it  should  be,  help  Christ  make  it  after 
His  pattern.  You  cannot  separate  Christ  and  the 
Church.  He  said  it  was  His  body,  and  some  wicked 
distinctions  have  been  made  by  men,  who  said  they 


138  A  Minister  in  the  Union. 

represented  your  cause,  but  misrepresented  it.  They 
have  even  said  to  me  that  there  has  been  a  hiss  heard 
at  the  mention  of  the  Church.  How  the  heart  of 
the  Saviour  must  be  grieved  at  that !  It  is  His  insti- 
tution as  the  channel  of  salvation  to  the  world.  Help 
it ;  support  it ;  do  not  stand  outside  of  it.  Do  not 
claim  it  has  purely  a  social  function.  Hear  Christ 
say  that  you  cannot  save  society  without  first  saving 
the  individual.  'Ye  must  be  born  again/  is  the  cry 
of  the  Church,  and  in  that  cry  is  the  key-note  of  the 
regeneration  of  society  and  the  salvation  of  the  cause 
of  labor.  There  is  not  too  much  philanthropy  or  too 
much  reform  in  the  world,  and  the  Church  is  not  too 
much  interested  in  that.  It  is  not  enough  interested 
in  that,  but  it  has  a  distinctively  spiritual  mission,  and 
first  things  must  be  kept  first,  or  less  will  be  done 
than  is  now  being  accomplished. 

"One  of  the  fallacies  of  this  day  is  that  all  people 
need  is  a  change  of  environment,  and  they  will  be 
good.  The  whole  Gospel  is  against  this,  and  teaches 
that  the  soul  right  with  God  first  changes  external 
conditions ;  and,  however  much  I  might  wish  to  do  for 
any  labor,  or  benevolent,  or  philanthropic  organiza- 
tion, I  must  not  compare  them  with  the  Church  or 
neglect  the  first  work  of  the  Church  for  them. 

"Jesus  died  to  save  a  man  who  was  immortal  and 
eternal.    That  means  that  He  would  do  all  He  could 


A  Minister  in  the  Union.  139 

for  that  man's  welfare  by  association  with  your  effort 
in  the  union  or  anywhere,  and  so  will  I. 

"It  is  not  a  false  position  in  which  I  place  Christ, 
when  I  bring  him  into  a  labor  union,  or  else  I  am 
wrong  in  being  here  now,  and  every  man  of  you  is 
out  of  his  place.  But  I  am  simply  trying  to  keep 
Christ's  death  and  life  right  before  the  world.  Ask  of 
me  as  His  representative  anything  that  I  can  do  for 
your  benefit,  and  I  will  do  it.  I  promise  you  my 
best  co-operation  and  my  deepest  sympathy.  I  wish 
I  might  shake  hands  with  every  one  of  you  on  that 
promise." 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  sit  down,  Henry  Fielding 
arose  and  said : 

"Here  is  one  man  who  would  like  to  shake  hands 
with  you,  Mr.  Dowling,  and  I  wish  you  would  stay 
where  you  are  until  we  have  all  had  the  opportunity." 

David  Dowling  looked  confused,  but  Henry  was  in 
front  of  him  in  a  moment,  and  then  Richard,  and  fol- 
lowing them  nearly  every  man  in  the  room  passed 
by  him  to  grasp  his  hand. 

Then  the  chairman  said  : 

"I  don't  see  any  reason  why  this  union  could  not 
have  honorary  members,  or  some  plan  by  which  such 
a  friend  of  ours  and  our  cause  as  Rev.  Dowling  could 
be  one  of  our  number.  I  shall  propose  that  change 
in  our  constitution  at  the  next  meeting." 


140  A  Minister  in  the  Union. 

The  statement  was  greeted  with  the  heartiest  ap- 
plause, and  one  of  the  most  important  meetings  ever 
held  in  a  union  came  to  its  conclusion. 

Who  can  say  that  it  was  not  an  epoch-making  time 
in  the  cause  of  the  workingman. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IN    THE    HOMES    OE    THE    POOR. 

After  the  service  on  Sunday  morning,  almost  every- 
one had  passed  out  of  the  church.  There  were  a  few 
scattered  groups  of  two  and  three  still  talking. 

Near  the  door  stood  Henry  Fielding,  waiting  for 
his  opportunity  to  speak  to  Mr.  Dowling. 

In  the  other  corner,  Elsie  and  Grace  were  making 
some  plans  for  their  missionary  work  during  the  com- 
ing week. 

Henry  had  been  spoken  to  and  welcomed  as  usual 
by  several  of  the  congregation,  but  now  he  was  alone. 
He  did  not  feel  strange  in  a  church,  nor  was  he  in 
any  special  hurry  to  get  away. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Dowling  was  at  liberty,  Henry- 
walked  up  in  front  of  the  pulpit  where  he  stood,  and 
received  a  hand  grasp,  which  was  only  the  sign  of 
deepest  affection. 

Immediately  some  one  else  was  in  their  presence. 

Elsie  and  Grace  had  received  a  sudden  impulse  to 
ask  Mr.  Dowling  and  Henry  to  go  with  them  the  next 
evening,  and  visit  some  of  the  homes  and  see  the 
needs  in  the  poorest  district  of  the  city. 

The  invitation  was  met  with  almost  immediate  ac- 


142         In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

ceptance  when  the  discovery  was  made  that  the  even- 
ing was  free  from  other  engagements. 

David  Dowling  would  not  have  been  so  willing  a 
few  weeks  or  months  previous. 

A  great  change  had  come  into  his  life,  and  now 
his  heart  carried  a  deep  desire  to  help  the  poor  and 
the  oppressed  and  to  serve  his  fellow-man,  without 
regard  to  their  station  in  life. 

The  soul  of  every  man  had  taken  on  new  value  for 
him,  ind  the  Gospel  new  meaning  and  power.  He 
said :  "I  have  been  anxious  to  do  just  this.  I  want  an 
introduction  to  this  kind  of  work,  and  I  am  going  to 
do  more  of  it  myself  if  I  can — at  least,  I  want  to 
come  in  contact  with  any  man  who  needs  Christ  and 
me. 

He  had  just  been  preaching  about  the  blind  man 
crying  out  for  Christ  to  help  him,  and  the  surprise 
of  the  crowd  who  witnessed  Jesus  stop  and  leave 
them  and  their  enthusiasm  and  worship  in  order  to 
lift  up  a  poor  wretch  who  lay  in  darkness  and 
poverty. 

The  conscientious  minister  preaches  first  to  him- 
self, and  the  truth  which  lay  at  the  core  of  the  Gos- 
pel now  pushed  its  way  relentlessly  toward  the  very 
centre  of  his  heart.  He  was  moving  in  the  footsteps 
of  the  Son  of  God — at  any  cost  to  his  desire  and  am- 
bition and  comfort. 


In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor.  143 

A  new  ideal  was  rising  in  his  sky  like  a  bright  star. 
It  was  claiming  and  receiving  his  attention. 

He  once  had  aimed  to  be  intellectually  great;  to 
create  masterpieces  of  literature ;  to  be  rhetorical  and 
polished  in  style;  to  command  the  admiration  of  the 
cultured  and  the  rich.  Now,  all  that  must  be  sec- 
ondary, and  he  was  to  save  men,  and  by  every  legiti- 
mate means  draw  them  to  their  Saviour  and  into  the 
Church. 

Instantly,  when  Grace  Chalmers  proposed  this  plan 
for  Monday  evening,  he  saw  blessing  in  it  for  him- 
self as  well  as  others,  and  the  meeting  of  a  great  need 
in  his  own  life,  for  he  had  not  made  much  investiga- 
tion concerning  the  way  the  poor  lived  and  suffered. 

Henry  hesitated  a  moment,  because  this  was  out  of 
his  line  and  the  errand  was  new  to  him,  but  the  very 
novelty  of  it  attracted  him,  and  then,  again,  there 
were  other  attractions. 

He  would  go  most  anywhere  to  be  in  certain  com- 
pany, but  the  chasm  seemed  to  increase  in  width  and 
depth  both,  while  no  bridge  appeared. 

He  tried  to  struggle  against  a  certain  feeling  which 
he  could  not  understand,  and  wondered  whether  he 
was  a  subject  for  the  insane  asylum,  or  what  was  the 
matter  with  him. 

The  whole  situation  seemed  ridiculous  to  him,  but 
he  could  not  lessen  the  grip  of  something  which  was 
reality,  and  yet  he  did  not  know  what  to  call  it. 


144         In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

In  the  secret  silence  of  his  own  soul,  he  had  said 
often : 

It  was  "sentiment,"  "infatuation,"  or  a  score  of 
other  words  without  definition,  but  he  never  had  ven- 
tured to  explain  it  by  a  monosyllable  of  four  letters. 

That  would  have  been  best,  but  it  was  too  bold  for 
his  modest  and  inexperienced  state. 

His  hesitation  soon  vanished  like  a  snowflake  in 
the  warmth  of  the  sun,  while  the  flowers  of  his  real 
desire  appeared  in  his  answer,  that  he  would  be  de- 
lighted to  go  with  them. 

The  next  evening,  by  arrangement,  they  met  at 
Mr.  Dowling's  home,  and  started  their  journey  from 
that  point. 

They  entered  a  downtown  car,  and  Mr.  Dowling 
sat  directly  opposite  to  the  other  three,  that  being  the 
only  vacant  place. 

He  had  been  very  quiet  all  the  way,  and  now  sat 
in  deep  meditation,  as  if  no  one  was  near  him.  A 
man  can  oftentimes  be  most  alone  in  a  crowd.  The 
loneliest  place  in  the  world  is  in  the  centre  of  the 
rush  of  humanity  which  does  not  care  any  more  for 
you  than  the  car  itself,  and  would  rather  push  against 
you  than  against  it. 

The  car  was  crowded,  and  he  was  out  of  reach  of 
their  conversation,  but  was  deep  in  his  own  thoughts. 
They  motioned  to  each  other  as  he  wrinkled  his  brow 
and  almost  closed  his  eyes.     The  motion  of  his  hands 


In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor.         145 

as  they  pressed  each  other  told  the  secret  of  his  nerv- 
ousness. No,  it  was  more  than  that ;  it  was  the  hon- 
est soul  in  a  man  while  in  life's  greatest  struggle — to 
find  the  right  path  and  take  it,  even  though  the 
heaviest  burden  lay  directly  across  it. 

He  was  saying  to  himself:  "Let  the  sermon  go. 
I  must  do  more  of  this  personal  Christlike  work." 

David  Dowling  did  not  then  know  that  that  kind 
of  a  resolution  and  life  was  the  theological  seminary 
where  the  best  doctrine  and  homiletics  were  learned. 
An  essay  is  not  a  sermon — that  is  only  anatomy.  A 
sermon  is  something  with  blood  in  it.  He  was  on 
his  way  now  for  the  material  which  makes  the  life 
and  effectiveness  and  saving  force  of  the  sermon. 

A  minister's  study  is  not  confined  to  the  four  walls 
of  a  small  room  and  musty  commentaries  and  moldy 
encyclopedias  and  machine-made  sermons. 

A  man  on  one  side  of  him  was  talking  to  the  gen- 
tleman with  him  about  a  great  opportunity  in  busi- 
ness. Some  people  standing  in  front  of  him  were 
talking  about  the  theatre,  and  their  anxiety  to  get 
seats  for  the  play  that  night,  while  some  one  near 
him,  partially  intoxicated,  was  muttering  a  jumble  of 
unintelligible  words,  with  an  occasional  oath  in  the 
mixture.  He  heard  it  all,  but  his  thoughts  were  too 
overpowering  to  be  conquered  by  it. 

That  was  the  picture  of  the  whole  world.  The 
good  surrounded  by  the  bad,  and  the  bad  making  the 


146         In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

most  noise.  But  the  good  is  here,  and,  though  less 
often  seen  and  heard,  has  not  less  power. 

A  single  man  with  a  holy  determination  is  a  greater 
factor  in  the  world  than  some  whole  carloads  of  ordi- 
nary humanity. 

As  the  car  stopped  at  one  of  the  crossings  a  small 
boy,  burdened  with  a  great  bundle  of  clothing,  which 
he  was  apparently  returning  to  the  tailor  shop,  tried 
to  push  his  way  on  the  car.  The  package  was  larger 
than  the  boy,  and  he  was  almost  exhausted,  as  he 
dropped  it  partially  in  the  doorway. 

When  the  car  started  on,  the  conductor  seized  the 
boy  by  the  arm  and  said:  "You  can't  have  that  on 
here.  You  will  have  to  get  off  again.  It  is  in  the 
way,  and  we  are  not  supposed  to  be  an  express  cart." 

The  little  fellow  looked  puzzled  and  frightened  all 
at  once,  and  apparently  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
With  only  a  nickel,  and  more  than  a  mile  to  go,  what 
should  he  do? 

The  car  was  at  the  next  crossing,  and  the  heartless 
conductor  had  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder  again, 
ready  to  push  him  off,  when  suddenly  a  young  man 
arose,  who  sat  near  the  door  and  had  heard  it  all. 

He  was  Henry  Fielding.  The  same  impulse,  so 
often  appearing  in  his  life,  was  at  work  again,  and 
if  all  the  world  tried  to  stop  him,  he  must  go  on.  He 
suddenly  seized  the  bundle,  stepped  in  front  of  the 
boy,  and  said : 


In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor.  147 

"My  boy,  you  stay  on  that  car — at  least  till  I  get 
off." 

He  then  raised  the  huge  bundle  to  his  shoulder  and 
stepped  as  far  away  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  plat- 
form as  he  could,  and  stood  there  with  the  load  on 
his  strong  shoulder  and  the  poor  boy  in  front  of  him, 
amazed  at  his  kindness. 

Some  of  the  passengers  had  not  seen  it,  because  of 
the  calmness  and  skill  with  which  it  was  done. 
Those  who  had  were  almost  as  much  astonished  as 
the  boy  himself. 

The  most  startled  one  of  all  was  the  conductor. 
He  pulled  the  rope  and  then  began  to  talk,  but  the 
car  went  on  its  way,  and  Henry  never  spoke  a  word. 

He  stood  like  a  giant,  the  kingliest  among  men. 

Three  pairs  of  eyes  were  fastened  on  him  with  a 
peculiar  gaze. 

Elsie  was  proud  of  her  brother,  and  straightened 
up,  as  if  she  wanted  to  tell  everybody  that  she  was  his 
sister. 

David  Dowling  looked  at  the  deed  of  courage  and 
love,  and  glanced  away  to  the  floor  to  mutter,  almost 
audibly:     "Not  far  from  the  kingdom." 

It  was  almost  like  Jesus,  as  he  looked  at  the  young 
man  and  loved  him. 

Grace  was  possessed  with  a  different  thought  and 
feeling  from  the  other  two.  It  was  something  more 
than  admiration.     Money  could  not  win  her.     Posi- 


148         In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

tion  could  not  win  her.  Character  was  the  only  mag- 
net. The  divinity  in  manhood  was  the  only  sceptre 
to  which  she  would  ever  bow. 

When  they  were  to  leave  the  car,  Henry  asked  the 
boy  how  far  he  had  to  go.  It  was  several  blocks  dis- 
tant. He  then  turned  to  the  conductor,  and  inquired 
if  he  would  allow  the  boy  and  his  bundle  to  stay 
on  the  rest  of  the  way.  If  not,  he  would  go  to  the 
end  with  him. 

The  conductor  did  not  turn  his  head,  but  answered 
gruffly — almost  an  indistinct  grumble :  "Yes,  he  can 
stay." 

The  influence  of  that  act  was  impressed  upon  every 
witness,  and  they  were  to  carry  it  to  others,  while 
the  wave  was  not  to  break  until  it  reached  the  shore 
of  Eternity. 

As  they  walked  toward  the  corner,  Mr.  Dowling 
turned  a  look  at  the  disappearing  car,  and  then  said : 
"Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these, 
ye  did  it  unto  Christ." 

Henry  did  not  feel  any  pride.  There  was  almost 
something  of  the  opposite  in  his  heart  that  prompted 
the  immediate  turning  of  the  conversation  into  an- 
other and  more  welcome  channel.     He  said : 

"Are  we  to  trust  ourselves  to  these  two  young 
women.  How  do  we  know  where  they  will  take 
us?" 


Ill  the  Homes  of  the  Poor.         149 

"I  feel  perfectly  safe,"  replied  Mr.  Dowling;  "let 
them  lead  the  way  and  we  will  follow." 

Grace  did  not  turn  around,  but  went  right  on, 
and  only  said : 

"You  need  not  tremble.  We  will  not  harm  you, 
and  we  will  not  let  anybody  else  do  so,  either.  We 
will  be  your  protectors  to-night;  at  least,  I  am  not 
going  to  take  you  to  any  place  where  I  have  not 
been  before." 

They  turned  another  corner,  where  the  accustomed 
saloon  gave  out  its  bright  light  and  poisonous  odors. 

A  young  man  pushed  through  the  half-screened 
doorway  and  staggered  out  toward  the  curb.  He 
brushed  against  Mr.  Dowling  in  his  reeling  movement 
and  mumbled  some  meaningless  sentences  as  they 
passed  on. 

David  Dowling  turned  to  look  at  him,  and  a  burn- 
ing desire  to  rescue  him  from  the  precipice  just  in 
front  of"  his  stumbling  steps  took  possession  of  his 
heart. 

He  paused  and  then  walked  on  again,  as  he  said 
to  Henry: 

"Oh,  what  a  pity  that  the  saloon  is  permitted  to 
ruin  so  many  of  our  best  young  men.  That  poor 
fellow,  even  in  his  drunkenness,  is  marked  with  re- 
finement, and  I  imagine  came  from  a  good  home, 
possibly  even  religious  influence.     But  what  can  a 


150         In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

man  do  for  him?  Nothing,  to-night.  I  would  stop 
and  talk  to  him  and  do  anything  to  help  him.  That 
is  the  way  I  feel  now,  but  you  might  as  well  talk  to 
a  piece  of  wood  or  block  of  stone " 

"Perhaps  better,"  interrupted  Henry,  "because  he 
would  probably  only  insult  you  and  swear  at  you." 

"Yes,  and  I  wish  to  Heaven  that  we  could  do 
something  to  prevent  these  stations  along  the  road 
to  perdition  from  transacting  their  awful  business," 
said  Mr.  Dowling.  "It  is  a  disgrace  to  our  civiliza- 
tion and  an  outrage  upon  humanity.  These  places 
ruin  more  young  men  in  one  night  than  my  church 
saves  in  five  years.  They  are  also  the  greatest  enemy 
of  the  workingman." 

Just  then  Grace  paused  at  the  foot  of  a  dark  stair- 
way. 

"I  have  been  here  before,"  she  said;  "don't  be 
afraid.  Follow  me,  and  they  will  be  glad  to  see  us, 
I  know." 

She  went  on  until  she  reached  the  second  floor, 
and  rapped  upon  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

A  woman  opened  it,  and  appeared  surprised  for  a 
moment — not  at  seeing  Grace,  because  she  knew  her 
— but  at  her  companions. 

The  woman  was  only  about  thirty  years  of  age. 
She  carried  a  careworn  and  almost  discouraged  look. 
In  every  feature  was  the  mark  of  trouble  deep  cut. 


In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor.  151 

The  smile  had  disappeared,  evidently  never  to  re- 
turn. 

Oh,  the  tragedy  of  such  a  life ! 

She  had  married  with  brightest  prospects  of  a 
happy  future  in  a  home  of  her  own.  The  years  had 
come  freighted  with  a  great  load  of  struggle  and  op- 
position. They  had  tried  hard  and  honestly  to  make 
a  living  for  themselves  and  their  two  children,  but 
now  her  husband  was  in  one  of  their  two  rooms, 
suffering  not  only  the  pain  physical,  but  the  greatest 
pangs  of  the  soul  also. 

Despair  was  thrusting  its  blade  into  his  heart.  The 
world  was  dark.  It  was  midnight  all  the  time.  He 
could  want  himself,  but  to  see  his  wife  and  children 
lack  the  very  necessities  of  life  was  more  than  he 
could  bear.  Death  would  be  a  relief,  but  he  was 
not  a  coward,  and  suicide  did  not  even  suggest  itself 
to  him.  But  just  what  they  were  to  do,  he  did  not 
know. 

Grace  in  her  own  way  changed  the  atmosphere  of 
their  poor  home  into  a  welcome  for  herself  and  her 
friends. 

She  told  them  she  came  simply  to  inquire  about 
Mr.  Robbins,  and  that  she  wanted  him  to  know  her 
pastor,  and  also  Miss  Fielding's  brother. 

It  was  a  poor  substitute  for  a  home,  and  that  sacred 
name  ought  not  to  be  given  to  such  places.  Here 
human  beings  could  only  exist,  not  live. 


152  In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

The  children  were  asleep  together  upon  an  old 
lounge,  and  the  curtain  between  the  two  rooms  had 
been  drawn  aside,  so  that  the  father  could  be  seen, 
while  Grace  stood  midway  between  the  rooms,  and 
Mr.  Dowling  had  gone  to  the  bedside  and  asked 
what  the  trouble  was. 

Grace  knew  the  sad  story,  and  she  helped  him  tell  it. 

He  had  been  employed  by  the  street  car  company 
to  take  the  place  of  one  of  the  strikers,  and  was  on 
his  last  trip  for  the  night.  The  car  had  almost 
reached  the  terminus  of  the  road. 

Every  passenger  was  out.  He  and  the  conductor 
were  alone,  when  suddenly  from  a  place  in  the  shadow 
of  the  electric  light  a  brick  was  hurled  and  broke  the 
headlight,  while  almost  at  the  same  instant  another 
had  come  with  better  aim,  and  struck  him  on  the  right 
shoulder. 

He  had  turned  the  handle  almost  enough  to  stop 
the  car  when  the  first  crash  came,  thinking  that  some- 
thing had  exploded  under  the  car,  and  was  just  real- 
izing what  had  taken  place  and  getting  ready  to  turn 
on  the  power  again  and  escape,  when  the  blow,  as 
from  a  bolt  of  lightning,  paralyzed  his  arm  and  side, 
so  that  he  could  not  move. 

He  had  almost  fallen,  but  was  up  again,  unable  to 
lift  his  hand,  or  do  anything,  and  the  car  came  to  a 
standstill.  It  all  happened  so  quickly  that  his  com- 
panion had  not  reached  the  front  of  the  car  before  it 


In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor.         153 

was  surrounded  by  angry  men.  They  seized  him  and 
dragged  him  over  the  inclosure,  and  beat  him  with  a 
half  dozen  blows  at  once.  They  called  him  "scab" 
and  "tramp"  and  cursed  him,  and  left  him  on  the  hard 
pavement,  more  dead  than  alive. 

Help  was  soon  there,  and  employees  and  policemen 
had  scattered  the  strikers  after  a  battle,  in  which 
seven  had  been  injured  and  one  man  shot  by  an  of- 
ficer. 

They  were  determined  to  break  the  car,  and  had 
succeeded  in  its  ruin  before  they  fled.  When  Mr. 
Robbins  recovered  sufficiently,  he  was  carried  into  his 
poor  home  about  twelve  o'clock  at  night. 

The  feelings  of  his  broken-hearted  wife,  after  wait- 
ing weeks  for  employment,  could  not  be  described. 
Death  itself  would  have  been  a  relief  for  either  one, 
and  that  night  they  imagined  that  even  the  children 
would  be  better  off  without  them. 

He  said  now  to  Mr.  Dowling : 

"Don't  think  that  I  blame  the  strikers.  I  don't 
know  what  to  say  about  it.  I  didn't  want  to  take 
the  job.  It  was  a  case  of  necessity.  I  must  steal, 
starve,  beg  or  take  the  risk  of  their  threats.  They 
warned  us  often  enough.  They  ought  to  have  bet- 
ter pay  and  shorter  hours.  They  ought  not  to  work 
seven  days  in  the  week.  They  are  right.  I  would 
rather  be  called  anything  else  in  the  world  than  a 


154         In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

'scab.'  I  am  on  their  side,  and  I  felt  guilty  every  turn 
I  gave  the  electric  motor.  The  company  can  get  men 
enough — poor  sticks,  most  of  them — but  they  don't 
ask  any  odds  of  the  old  and  faithful  employees.  I 
did  it  for  the  sake  of  my  wife  and  babies,  and  here  I 
am.  I  wouldn't  do  it  again.  I  will  stand  by  my  fel- 
low workmen.  Better  for  a  man  to  starve  than  to 
be  a  slave." 

The  man  was  so  earnest  and  almost  excited  that 
Mr.  Dowling  had  to  interrupt  him  in  order  to  get  an 
opportunity  to  say  anything,  but  "Mr.  Robbins,"  he 
said,  "it  certainly  cannot  be  right  for  one  man  to 
pound  another.  There  is  no  law  or  liberty  in  that. 
That  is  barbarism,  and  not  Americanism." 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "but  what  will  the  men  do?  I  step 
in  and  run  their  cars  for  the  same  old  wages  or  less, 
and  then  their  families  suffer.  It  is  only  a  change  of 
people,  that  is  all,  and  the  condition  remains  the 
same." 

Mr.  Dowling  did  not  know  what  to  say  for  an  in- 
stant, but  ventured : 

"Yes,  but  it  must  be  wrong,  and  I  hope  some  other 
way  can  be  found." 

"So  do  I,"  said  he,  "and  I  hope  they  will  find  the 
way  for  all  men  to  earn  an  honest  living." 

"The  rule  is,"  said  Mr.  Dowling,  "that  men  do  have 
a  way,  but  I  suppose  there  are  exceptions.    Most  of 


In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor.         155 

the  needy  people  are  to  blame  themselves,  or  their  an- 
cestors." 

"But  I " 

"Wait  a  minute,"  continued  Mr.  Dowling.  "I  don't 
say  that  you  are  to  blame,  only  that  I  think  that 
there  are  not  many  exceptions  to  the  rule  in  this  great 
city." 

"Yes,  more  than  you  think,  and  it  makes  a  man  al- 
most believe  there  is  no  right  and  no  God,  or  any- 
thing like  I  used  to  think." 

"Hold  on,  there  is  a  God  and  He  is  caring  for  you. 
Out  of  all  these  troubles  and  reverses  there  will  come 
some  good  and  a  speedy  relief." 

"It  has  been  a  long  time  coming,"  said  he.  "There 
must  be  something  wrong  with  either  society  or  with 
me.  Perhaps  it  is  with  me,  but  I  know  it  is  not 
with  Mary  and  the  babies,"  and  then  the  great  tears 
rolled  down  his  face. 

Grace  took  a  step  nearer  to  him,  and  said : 

"Now,  you  know  me,  and  you  will  not  starve.  Just 
cheer  up,  and  there  will  be  a  better  day." 

"Yes,"  spoke  out  Henry,  "I  am  in  with  the  work- 
ingmen,  and  perhaps  I  can  help  you  in  some  way.  I 
have  not  much,  but  here  is  two  dollars  for  you  to- 
night," and  he  laid  it  on  the  table  by  the  hand  of 
Mrs.  Robbins. 

David  Dowling  had  been  in  many  a  dilemma  in  his 
life,  but  at  no  time  more  so  than  now.    He  wanted 


156         In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

to  say  and  do  the  helpful  thing,  but  he  did  not  know 
what  it  was. 

That  is  the  old  problem  for  the  earnest  soul. 

At  last  he  took  hold  of  the  man's  hand,  and  said : 

"I  am  your  friend,  and  I  will  see  you  again.  I  will 
pray  for  you  when  I  am  not  here,  but  I  would  like  to 
pray  for  you  now.  God  does  live,  and  He  lives  for 
you.  Trust  Him.  I  have  been  in  the  dark,  too — not 
just  as  you  are  now,  but  in  another  way,  and  just  as 
dark  for  me.  I  can  sympathize,  but  there  is  no  relief 
— only  in  God.     Do  you  want  me  to  pray?" 

It  was  not  a  very  hearty  reply  which  came  from  the 
sick  man,  but  he  half  whispered,  "Yes,  I  would  like 
to  have  you." 

They  all  kneeled,  and  one  of  the  most  earnest 
prayers  arose  from  those  poor  surroundings.  It 
seemed  as  if  Christ  was  there.  It  was  so  much  like 
some  of  His  work  when  upon  earth. 

One  minister  was  coming  to  learn  the  art  of  the 
Christ — coming  to  receive  the  joy  and  satisfaction  of 
Christ. 

They  had  tarried  so  much  longer  than  Grace  ex- 
pected, and  most  of  the  evening  had  passed  already, 
but  they  hastened  on  another  block  and  a  half,  and 
stood  in  front  of  a  dilapidated  old  building  of  five 
stories  in  height,  with  a  very  narrow  stairway  to 
reach  the  upper  floors. 


In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor.         157 

Grace  said :  "Here  is  another  one  of  my  families. 
I  want  you  to  see  them." 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  too  late,"  replied  Mr.  Dowling, 
as  he  looked  at  his  watch,  and  said:  "It  is  almost 
nine  o'clock." 

"Oh,  that  won't  make  any  difference.  I  am  sure  we 
can  find  her,"  answered  Grace.  "She  sews  half  the 
night,  and  I  want  you  to  see  how  some  people  have 
to  work." 

They  were  already  on  their  way  up  the  stairs,  and 
Henry  called  out  to  the  leader  to  ask  if  there  was  no 
end  to  the  climb,  or  if  they  were  ascending  an  Eifel 
tower. 

When  they  reached  the  fifth  floor,  the  single 
roomed  home  was  opened  for  them,  but  it  was  almost 
too  crowded  to  receive  them  all. 

A  small  woman,  with  bright  but  worn  appearance, 
arose  from  her  sewing  machine  as  her  child  of  twelve 
years  opened  the  door,  and  told  her  that  Miss  Chal- 
mers was  there. 

She  could  not  understand  the  late  visit,  or  the  com- 
ing of  so  many,  until  Grace  had  explained  it  by  say- 
ing that  she  wanted  her  to  know  Mr.  Dowling  and 
her  other  friends,  who  could  not  come  any  other  time, 
and  this  was  later  than  they  had  planned,  but  she 
added : 

"I  knew  you  would  be  at  work,  and  would  not  mind 
the  hour,  or  so  many  of  us  coming,  either." 


158         In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

There  were  only  two  chairs,  and  another  with  the 
back  broken,  also  a  lounge,  which  another  child  of 
eight  years  occupied. 

They  could  not  all  sit  down  if  they  had  desired  to 
do  so,  but  that  was  not  necessary  now,  and  Grace  said 
she  need  not  apologize,  because  they  would  not  sit 
down  if  she  had  twice  as  many  chairs.  They  must 
not  stay,  only  a  moment  or  two. 

It  was  a  room,  clean,  but  oh,  so  small  and  close  and 
poorly  lighted.  It  was  ruin  to  eyes  and  health  to 
work  so  many  hours  each  day  in  a  place  like  that,  and 
then  to  sleep  in  it  for  the  few  remaining  hours  of  the 
night. 

The  dream  which  many  people  in  the  great  city 
have  concerning  heaven  is  that  there  will  be  room 
enough.  So  crowded  here,  "room"  is  another  name 
for  heaven  in  the  tenements. 

David  Dowling  and  Henry  Fielding  stood  speech- 
less, and  had  each  his  own  thoughts  and  feelings,  but 
they  were  not  so  very  far  apart. 

Grace  was  explaining  to  them  that  this  woman  had 
cared  for  her  husband  in  this  same  room  for  two 
years,  while  he  was  dying  daily  of  consumption,  and 
that  she  was  such  a  hero  that  she  not  only  looked  af- 
ter him,  but  supported  the  little  family  and  paid  the 
rent.  The  doctor  did  not  come  very  often,  but  even 
he  had  never  lost  a  farthing  by  her. 

"I  do  not  see  how  it  is  possible,"  said  Henry. 


In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor.         159 

"Well,  she  is  doing  the  same  now.  Tell  them,  Mrs. 
Mason,  how  much  you  get  for  your  sewing." 

The  color  in  her  face  deepened,  and  she  hesitated 
for  a  moment,  but  then  said : 

"Well,  I  am  almost  ashamed  of  it." 

"You  need  not  be  the  one  to  be  ashamed,"  said 
Grace.  "The  people  who  make  you  do  it  for  them 
are  the  guilty  ones." 

"Yes,"  said  Henry,  "and  society  ought  to  make 
them  blush  more  than  it  does." 

"I  am  thankful,"  she  replied,  "to  get  it  at  all.  It 
is  my  living  now,  and  I  don't  know  what  I  would  do 
if  they  stopped  me." 

"What  do  they  pay  you  ?"  queried  Mr.  Dowling. 

He  was  afraid  she  was  forgetting  to  tell  them,  and 
he  was  anxious  to  know  and  hear  the  story  of  a  poor 
sewing  woman,  first  hand  and  for  himself. 

She  looked  up  at  him  and  said :  "I  am  making 
vests  now,  and  I  get  for  my  work  on  them  six  cents 
apiece.  I  can  make  five  of  them  in  the  day,  and  if 
I  work  at  night  until  twelve  o'clock,  I  can  make 
eight.  Sometimes  Minnie  and  I  work  until  later  than 
that,  and  make  ten.  She  does  what  work  is  done  here 
about  the  room  and  the  cooking.  Of  course,  that  is 
not  very  much,  and  then  we  work  together.  I  fur- 
nish my  own  thread  and  machine.  Fifty  cents,  sir, 
is  a  good  day  for  us,  and  we  are  ready  to  sleep  on 
that.     I  make  cheap  trousers,  too,  and  get  for  them 


160         In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

one  dollar  and  a  half  a  dozen  pair.  It  takes  me  al- 
most three  days  for  a  dozen." 

Mr.  Dowling  never  moved  his  eyes  from  the  wo- 
man's face. 

He  was  almost  transfixed  at  hearing  such  a  reve- 
lation of  the  real  truth,  and  seeing  it  all  for  himself. 
He  could  not  help  feeling  that  there  were  many 
wrongs  to  be  righted  in  the  present  system,  and  that 
his  Gospel  must  have  a  bearing  upon  it. 

"But  you  know,"  she  continued,  "we  are  glad  and 
anxious  to  get  it  at  that  price.  Many  women  right 
in  this  tenement  would  be  willing  to  take  my  work  if 
they  could  get  it,  and  some  of  them,  too,  would  do  it 
for  less." 

"I  don't  know  who  is  to  be  blamed,"  said  Henry. 
"I  hope  that  it  will  be  better  for  you,  anyway,  very 
soon.  I  work  every  day,  and  work  hard,  but  I  am 
sure  that  I  do  not  know  yet  what  you  know  about  it." 

"I  wanted  you  to  know,"  said  Grace,  "that  you  had 
friends,  and  we  will  not  forget  you,  will  we?"  she 
asked,  with  a  glance  and  turn  toward  them  all. 

They  all  nodded,  and  Elsie  asked  if  there  was  any- 
thing she  needed  now  especially. 

The  woman  would  not  own  that  there  was,  and  said 
they  were  getting  along  very  comfortably. 

They  all  bade  her  good-night,  with  the  assurance 
of  their  friendship  and  interest  in  her,  and  promised 
to  come  as:ain. 


In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor.  161 

Some  money  had  been  left  on  the  table  without  a 
word,  and  Christ  whispered  "inasmuch"  again. 

Another  life  and  family  had  been  touched  by  real 
Christianity.  Less  toil  that  night,  and  sweeter  rest — 
some  light  through  the  cloud. 

Mr.  Dowling  remarked  with  a  sigh,  as  they  reached 
the  last  step  of  the  stairway: 

"One  half  of  the  world  does  not  know  how  the 
other  half  lives." 

"Unquestionably,"  said  Henry,  as  they  passed  on 
toward  the  car. 

"Much  of  the  poverty  and  suffering  comes  directly 
and  indirectly  from  sin,  but  we  have  seen  at  least 
some  to-night  which  apparently  does  not.  Yes," 
continued  Mr.  Dowling,  "it  has  been  a  revelation  to 
me.  Christ  would  have  been  helping  this  class  of 
people  more  than  I  have,  and  I  am  going  to  do  my 
part  in  the  future.  I  do  not  believe  that  any  man 
knows  the  real  Christ-life  who  simply  preaches  to  a 
rich  congregation,  and  is  satisfied  with  that.  My 
life  in  the  ministry  has  not  been  satisfactory  to  my- 
self. I  have  had  many  a  thought  of  going  out  of  it, 
and  other  unholy  suggestions.  It  is  just  because  I 
have  not  gone  at  it  in  the  Christ  way." 

He  almost  stopped  as  he  said  : 

"Henry  Fielding,  these  have  been  wonderful  weeks 
in  my  life.    It  seems  as  if  I  had  lived  years  in  these 


162         In  the  Homes  of  the  Poor. 

days.  I  have  been  praying  that  it  might  be  the  same 
with  you." 

Henry  looked  at  him,  and  replied: 

"Your  prayer  has  been  answered." 

They  were  about  to  part,  and  Mr.  Dowling  said : 

"I  have  my  sermon  for  next  Sunday.  You  wiU 
have  to  be  there." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  HERO  IN   THE  PUEPIT. 

David  Dowling  was  more  truthful  than  his  con- 
science made  him  believe,  after  he  parted  from  his 
friends.  He  had  said  to  them  that  the  experience  of 
the  evening  had  given  him  his  sermon  for  the  next 
Sunday. 

While  that  statement  was  not  literally  true  in  let- 
ter, period  and  comma,  yet  it  was  the  very  heart  of 
the  truth. 

He  had  his  sermon  for  Sunday  morning  planned 
before  this,  and  was  ready  to  announce  it  in  the  pa- 
per and  church  bulletin  the  next  morning,  but  now 
it  was  charged  with  new  life.  It  was  practically  a 
new  sermon.  He  must  change  it  and  fill  it  in  and 
preach  it  entirely  different  from  the  original  plan. 

Most  of  the  time  in  his  life  when  he  had  mapped 
out  and  written  his  sermon,  he  laid  it  away  to  rest 
sweetly  until  Sunday  morning,  and  hardly  awakened 
it  long  enough  for  a  half  hour's  sensation  in  the 
church,  and  then  usually  it  went  to  eternal  rest. 

Now  it  was  his  own  blood  and  own  heart  which 
was  to  make  the  sermon.  It  was  the  result  of  a  holy 
compulsion. 


164  A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit. 

He  had  convictions  and  consecration,  but  they 
were  more  than  sentences  and  words. 

"I  must — and  I  ought,"  were  more  than  many  sen- 
tences to  him  now. 

They  had  enlarged  into  the  most  important  words 
in  his  vocabulary. 

The  great  strike  had  continued  in  the  city,  and  it 
had  come  to  the  hour  when  everybody  was  being  af- 
fected by  it,  and  intensely  interested  in  it. 

He  said :  "The  Church  is  one  of  the  places,  if  not 
the  first  place,  in  which  to  discuss  it,  and  help  to  fur- 
nish the  remedy.  If  this  does  not  vitally  affect  the 
Kingdom  of  God,  I  would  like  to  know  what  does. 
Christ  had  something  to  say  about  the  most  import- 
ant elements  in  the  society  of  His  day,  and  I  am  His 
representative  to-day.  God  helping  me,  I  will  bring 
the  light  of  the  Gospel  into  this  darkness,  and  the 
peace  of  Jesus  into  this  strife  between  capital  and 
labor." 

This  righteous  resolution  was  being  carried  into 
effect  each  day  of  the  week  by  most  earnest  prayer 
and  preparation. 

The  announcement  of  his  intention  had  spread 
among  his  own  people,  and  among  the  union  men. 
Most  of  them  who  did  not  know  him  only  said :  "Oh, 
he  is  on  the  side  of  his  parishioners,  and  will  only 
touch  the  surface  of  it,  and  will  leave  the  men  to 
suffer  the  same  injustice." 


A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit.  165 

There  was  excitement  in  the  church,  because  two 
of  the  officials  in  one  of  the  street  car  companies  were 
members  of  his  church,  and  several  other  people  who 
were  regular  attendants  at  the  service,  were  known  to 
own  stock  in  the  railroads  of  the  city. 

The  building-  was  crowded  when  the  hour  for  the 
Sunday  morning  service  arrived,  and  some  were  go- 
ing away  rather  than  stand  up  the  whole  hour. 

There  was  a  cry  which  only  angels  and  the  ear  of 
God  heard  this  morning  in  the  pastor's  room  just 
as  the  organ  began  to  play  and  the  choir  to  take  their 
places. 

"Oh,  God,  help  me  to  be  true  to  Thee,  and  to  every 
man  this  morning,  even  if  it  costs  my  position  or  my 
life." 

And  then  a  man  appeared  on  the  platform,  whose 
face  shone  like  the  faces  of  his  companions  in  the 
private  room. 

Those  who  had  known  him  best  and  longest  said 
they  had  never  seen  him  look  so  noble  and  almost  di- 
vine. 

A  clear,  courageous  conscience  changes  any  man's 
face. 

What  is  it  but  the  index  of  the  soul  ? 

The  most  interested  and  attentive  listener  was 
Henry  Fielding,  and,  strange  to  say,  he  heard  scarcely 
any  of  the  opening  service.  He  was  otherwise  en- 
gaged.    Prayer  became  a  reality  to  him  again.     He 


1 66  A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit. 

was  buttressing  and  barricading  the  sermon  and  mak- 
ing it  a  mighty  fortress  of  power.  That  is  largely 
the  strength  in  the  sermon. 

You  can  plant  the  seed  in  a  cave,  and  not  have 
flower  or  fruit.  The  sermon  is  planted,  but  needs  the 
warmth  and  light  of  sunshine  and  necessary  environ- 
ment. 

After  a  pause,  which  brought  perfect  quiet  all  over 
the  building  and  arrested  attention,  David  Dowling 
arose,  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  platform,  and  stood 
one  side  of  the  pulpit,  with  his  hand  on  the  open 
Bible. 

At  any  other  time  he  would  have  trembled  and 
found  his  introduction  the  hardest  part  of  the  ser- 
mon. Now  he  seemed  conscious  of  the  presence  of 
Christ,  and  recognized  that  he  was  simply  his  mouth- 
piece. He  raised  his  hand  slowly,  and  then  dropped 
it  upon  the  Bible  again,  as  he  said : 

"Here  is  the  constitution  for  every  labor  union, 
and  the  only  rule  of  life  for  every  employer.  The 
question  which  I  am  to  discuss  this  morning  is  of 
vital  import  to  society  and  the  Church,  and  the  King- 
dom of  God.  While  I  propose  to  s^eak  unhesitatingly 
the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth, 
I  will  not  intentionally  be  personal,  but  want  it  to 
have  its  application  to  my  own  life  as  well  as  to  that 
of  every  other  man. 

"I  understand  the  union  man  and  his  object  better 


A  Hero  in  tne  Pulpit.  167 

than  I  ever  did.  I  have  seen  the  sufferings  of  the 
poor  more  than  I  ever  have.  I  am  convinced  of  cer- 
tain injustices  in  modern  society  and  the  duty  of  the 
Church  of  Jesus  Christ  to  assist  in  making  the  wrong 
right.  We  cannot  be  silent  beholders  of  oppression 
in  any  form,  and  the  ravages  of  selfishness  without 
bringing  upon  ourselves  just  condemnation,  and  mak- 
ing our  precious  Gospel  to  lose  the  last  vestige  of 
power  over  the  individual  and  his  society.  I  would 
give  my  very  blood  at  this  instant  if  I  could  only  show 
the  spirit  of  Christ  through  His  Church,  to  every 
workingman  in  this  city. 

"We  are  nearer  right  and  nearer  to  His  cause  than 
they  think,  but  we  are  not  all  up  to  the  point  where 
the  Saviour  of  man  stands. 

"If  the  Gospel  in  the  heart  of  the  employer  does  not 
kill  selfishness,  I  will  never  preach  it  again." 

There  was  an  evident  effect  produced  by  this  sen- 
tence, and  after  a  pause,  Mr.  Dowling  continued : 

"Understand  me,  I  did  not  say  that  it  did  not  have 
that  effect,  and  that  there  are  not  genuine  Christian 
employers.  There  are  many  of  them,  but  I  do  declare 
that  that  is  what  the  Gospel  does  do  for  every  man 
who  has  the  right  to  be  a  member  of  the  Church. 

"Before  I  proceed  with  the  sermon,  I  must  tell  you 
what  my  eyes  saw  this  last  week,  and  if  I  could,  I 
would  reveal  to  you  what  my  heart  felt." 

Then  he  gave  the  audience  a  vivid  and  touching 


1 68  A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit. 

picture  of  the  scenes  in  the  homes  of  the  poor,  and 
told  the  sorrow  of  the  man  who  had  been  called 
"scab"  and  injured,  and  yet  did  not  blame  the  men 
who  had  beaten  him.  As  he  finished  the  pathetic  ac- 
count, some  handkerchiefs  were  seen,  and  some  mem- 
bers were  nodding  to  each  other. 

One  man,  who  was  presumably  a  union  man,  and 
sat  near  the  door,  spoke  out  in  a  subdued  and  almost 
frightened  tone,  "He  is  right." 

Mr.  Dowling  gave  no  heed  to  any  movements  or 
sound,  but  went  on  to  say : 

"There  is  no  question  before  the  public  more  im- 
portant than  this  one.  It  has  so  many  radii  reaching 
out  from  its  centre  to  the  very  circumference  of  so- 
ciety. Discussion  of  it  is  valuable,  but  the  day  has 
dawned  for  Christian  activity. 

"In  our  greatest  prosperity  there  are  thousands  in 
want  of  food  and  clothing.  Thousands  who  are  hon- 
est and  industrious.  They  may  not  have  great  abili- 
ty, but  they  are  not  lazy,  nor  are  they  criminals. 

"Witness  every  strike  we  have  in  these  great  cities. 
Why  are  they  nearly  always  ineffectual  and  result  in 
greater  loss  to  the  employees?  Because  there  are 
waiting  ten  times  as  many  men  as  are  needed  to  take 
their  places.  A  strike  has  come  to  be  almost  of  no 
avail,  unless  it  is  backed  up  by  force,  and  then  we 
cry  'outlaws'  and  'criminals,'  'barbarism/  'ought  not 
to  succeed.' 


A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit.  169 

"And  this  is  also  true,  that  most  of  the  men  who  do 
come  to  take  the  places  of  the  strikers  are  simply  will- 
ing to  take  their  lives  in  their  hands  in  order  to  feed 
their  wives  and  starving  children.  They  are  not  rush- 
ing into  this  hazardous  work  because  they  like  its 
danger  or  find  pleasure  in  the  labor.  It  is  often  not 
even  to  earn  wages  for  themselves,  but  the  sublime 
struggle  and  sacrifice  for  others.  What  will  the  work- 
ingmen  do  under  existing  conditions?  Is  it  right  to 
strike  ?  Does  the  strike  furnish  the  remedy  ?  Every 
man  who  is  a  patriot  or  a  Christian  ought  to  help  fur- 
nish an  answer  to  these  questions. 

"What  will  the  man  or  body  of  men  subjugated  to 
oppression  do?  There  is  a  real  question  in  the 
world  of  labor.  It  is  not  all  imaginary.  It  is  the  most 
vital  element  in  our  city's  life  now.  If  there  is  want 
of  work  and  want  of  justice,  something  is  wrong 
somewhere. 

"It  is  not  caused  by  the  introduction  of  new  ma- 
chinery. At  the  first  reception  of  new  machines  there 
is  a  displacement  of  labor,  and  oftentimes  with  such 
rapidity  that  much  hardship  results.  Then  comes 
strikes  and  the  destruction  of  property.  But  all  the 
history  of  this  tells  one  story,  that  within  a  short  pe- 
riod of  time  several  men  are  employed  in  the  place 
of  every  man  deprived  of  work  by  these  victories  of 
inventive  genius.  Every  time  society  gets  a  service 
rendered  with  less  of  human  effort,  blessing  immeas- 


170  A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit. 

ureable  results.     No  man  can  trace  its  ramifications 
through  society. 

"Stage  drivers  and  hostlers  and  waiters  and  farm- 
ers lose  occupation  when  the  stage  coach  is  stopped, 
but  that  number  has  been  multiplied  a  thousand 
times  by  the  vast  number  of  railroad  employees,  and 
at  far  better  wages.  Progress  means  new  demand, 
but  patience  must  be  exercised.  After  the  machine 
has  done  its  momentary  work  and  apparent  injury, 
the  years  pass  on  to  bless  it.  Nor  is  the  present  con- 
dition of  want  of  food  and  want  of  work  due  to  the 
poor  country  in  which  we  live.  There  is  an  abundance 
for  all.  There  is  enough  in  this  rich  land  for  more 
than  one  hundred  times  as  many  in  the  family.  We 
.  can  waste  a  hundred  million  of  dollars  a  year  in  to- 
bacco and  one  billion,  five  hundred  million  a  year  in 
rum,  and  just  here  is  the  great  burden  of  sin  upon  the 
workingmen.  The  larger  part  of  that  enormous  ex- 
penditure and  worse  than  waste  is  from  his  scanty 
store.  He  is  guilty,  and  he  has  suffered  the  penalty. 
By  economy  and  temperance  the  workingman  could 
save  and  become  independent,  and  perhaps  employ5 
ers  themselves.  If  one  man  drinks  up  his  money, 
he  ought  not  to  curse  the  other  man  who  saves  it. 
Let  every  man  bear  his  own  just  share  of  the  respon- 
sibility. The  workingman  ought  to  rise  up  against 
this  startling  waste  and  sin.  He  ought  to  declare  it 
as  his  greatest  enemy  and  fight  it  to  the  death. 


A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit.  171 

"Neither  is  the  present  condition  produced  by  the 
influx  of  foreign  labor.  This  is  not  great  enough  as 
a  factor.  The  poor  and  unskilled  labor  has  been  hin- 
dered, and  it  should  be.  The  incompetent  and  crim- 
inal element  of  old  world  population  should  not  be 
permitted  to  land  on  these  shores  to  take  the  places  of 
skilled  and  faithful  men  by  accepting  less  pay. 

"Blame  the  laboring  man  as  you  will,  I  say  he  must 
protect  his  wages.  That  is  one  purpose  of  his  union, 
and  it  is  not  a  fault.  His  skill  and  his  reward  are  his 
property.  Why  not  insure  it  and  protect  it?  It  is 
more  sacred  property  than  real  estate  or  the  steel 
rails  of  street  car  companies.  He  ought  to  use  every 
legitimate  means  to  keep  it. 

"What  right  has  a  street  car  company  to  thrust  a 
faithful  employee's  wages  down  and  increase  his 
hours  of  toil,  and  do  it  by  the  force  of  placing  the 
lives  of  our  citizens  in  the  keeping  of  another  ignor- 
ant and  careless  man  who  turns  an  electric  motor  for 
less  pay?  This  is  the  problem,  but  it  is  not  the  su- 
preme factor  or  the  real  producing  cause.  Neither 
has  the  monopoly'or  combination  of  the  present  day 
as  tyrannical  a  power  over  man  and  society  as  many 
have  supposed.  They  have  lessened  the  working 
forces  in  some  directions,  but  have  increased  it  in 
others,  and  in  time  there  will  arise  out  of  these 
changes  now  new  demands. 

"They  cannot  do  as  they  please,  nor  charge  what 


172  A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit. 

they  will.  The  element  of  competition  has  not  been 
silenced.  The  moment  the  price  is  raised  where  there 
is  a  profit  in  it  for  others,  many  will  grasp  the  oppor- 
tunity. Labor  was  practically  in  the  same  condition 
and  struggle  before  this  new  feature  in  the  social 
world. 

"I  read  yesterday  the  writing  of  one  prominent 
union  man,  who  said :  'The  promised  prosperity  has 
arrived — the  genuine,  unadulterated  article ;  and  how 
the  capitalists  rejoice.  But  the  wage  slaves !  Oh, 
they  are  not  to  be  considered,  only  as  so  many  tools 
or  machines  that  are  only  fit  to  toil  and  support  the 
idle  capitalist  when  it  seems  to  be  the  most  profita- 
ble. Workingmen,  do  you  realize  that  you  and  your 
class  are  the  only  ones  who  can  and  will  give  your- 
selves any  better  conditions?  Strike  the  capitalist 
intrenchment  in  its  weakest  point.  Capitalism  or  pri- 
vate ownership  is  wholly  responsible  for  all  the  vice, 
crime,  misery,  want  and  servitude  of  the  masses. 
Strong  men  willing  to  work  starve  while  gazing 
on  stores  of  food  which  is  controlled  for  private  in- 
terest. Little  children  go  to  bed  hungry,  while  cap- 
italists are  feeding  on  luxuries  they  never  earned. 
The  miner  digs  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  hid  away 
in  a  dungeon,  toiling  out  his  own  life,  scarcely  see- 
ing the  light  of  day,  to  support  a  class  who  never 
aid  in  production,  but  feast  on  the  blood  and  sweat 
that  has  been  coined  into  dollars.     Get  rid  at  least  of 


A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit.  173 

the  superstition  that  there  would  be  no  capital  if 
there  were  no  capitalists,  for  it  is  this  absurd  notion 
which  keeps  you  in  bondage;  which  makes  each  of 
you  look  beggingly  to  some  capitalist  for  employment 
instead  of  looking  fraternally  to  each  other  for  mutual 
service  in  co-operation.' 

"He  writes  extravagantly  and  does  injury  to  his 
own  cause.  That  is  not  the  right  method  to  pursue, 
nor  is  the  cure  presented,  only  in  a  vague  and  hack- 
neyed way.  There  is  something  deeper  than  that. 
Many  wise  men  and  true  hearts  have  advocated  the 
public  ownership  of  public  utilities.  That  would  pre- 
vent the  repetition  of  this  present  situation.  This  is 
undoubtedly  true  in  a  measure,  and  I  wish  it  was  in 
effect  to-day,  but  that  only  touches  the  public  utili- 
ties, and  leaves  out  the  general  condition  and  great 
question. 

"No  city  ought  to  be  subjugated  to  the  inconvenience 
and  injustice  of  a  street  car  strike.  That  affects  other 
people  more  in  some  instances  than  it  does  the  corpo- 
ration or  their  employees.  Our  rights  and  liberties 
must  be  considered.  Light,  water,  postal,  telegraph 
and  transportation  services  ought  to  be  under  Govern- 
ment control.  The  crime  of  the  past  is  the  cause  of 
the  penalty  to-day.  We  give  away  valuable  fran- 
chises and  hundreds  of  millions  of  acres  of  land,  and 
these  days  are  the  result.  Here  are  the  most  frequent 
and  bitterest  strikes,  and  it  ought  never  to  have  been 


174  A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit. 

possible.  The  old  world  is  ahead  of  us,  and  the  gov- 
ernments are  making  great  revenue  from  the  very 
things  in  which  the  individuals  and  corporations  in 
this  country  are  hoarding  their  millions. 

"This  is  not  the  extreme  of  socialism.  It  is  only 
good  government  and  good  sense.  Even  in  the  pres- 
ent position,  no  strike  should  be  possible  in  these  de- 
partments of  our  life  and  commerce.  Here  at  least 
we  could  have  a  permanent  court  of  arbitration, 
whose  power  was  final.  Our  business  should  be  es- 
tablished upon  the  principle  of  our  Government. 
There  we  have  a  king,  but  he  is  controlled ;  there  we 
have  the  people,  but  they  are  not  a  mob.  Both  are 
governed  as  well  as  governing. 

"In  the  case  of  the  capitalist,  he  is  a  most  import- 
ant element  in  our  society.  In  proportion  to  his  good- 
ness is  his  value.  The  workingmen  are  just  as  valu- 
able to  society,  and  we  have  a  multitude  of  the  best 
in  the  world.  The  good  capitalist,  like  a  good  king, 
is  one  of  the  greatest  blessings,  if  he  does  not  op- 
press his  fellowmen,  and  is  willing  to  divide  reason- 
ably the  profits  with  his  employees,  and  surrounds  his 
factory  or  men  or  railroad  with  an  atmosphere  of 
brotherhood  and  love.  He  may  be  a  benefactor,  in- 
deed, but  if  he  is  a  bad  man,  he  is  like  the  king  who 
becomes  simply  a  tyrant  on  his  throne. 

"So  the  workingmen  are  the  very  sinew  of  our  life. 
They  are  now  the  lower  class.     The}'  are  on  a  level 


A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit.  175 

with  the  best.  Every  citizen  ought  to  be  a  working- 
man  in  the  best  definition  of  that  term.  If  the  work- 
ingman  is  industrious  and  honest  and  economical,  and 
possesses  ability,  he  is  not  only  a  necessity,  but  one  of 
the  greatest  elements  of  wealth  in  our  society.  Neither 
employer  or  employee  ought  to  rule  this  country  un- 
guarded. That  is  contrary  to  every  principle  of  the 
Republic.  You  make  kings  and  create  mobs  to  your 
shame  and  your  death.  We  have  individual  liberty, 
bounded  by  law.  It  is  almost  an  outrage  to  put  in 
the  hands  of  any  one  man  or  corporation  the  interests 
of  a  whole  city. 

"In  this  present  crisis  I  am  impressed  with  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  men  being  in  the  right.  They  have  been 
oppressed  for  months  and  years  by  an  increase  in 
their  hours  of  toil,  with  no  rest-day  in  the  week,  as 
God  ordained,  and  as  every  man  has  the  right  to  pos- 
sess. More  than  that,  there  has  now  been  made  a 
slight  reduction  in  wages.  It  is  the  hour  for  a  strike, 
if  no  other  power  will  secure  justice.  Why  is  all  this 
increase  of  hours  and  lowering  of  wages?  Is  it  be- 
cause the  stockholders  are  growing  poorer?  No,  their 
dividends  are  increasing  and  they  are  growing  richer 
every  day.    It  is  only  the  process  of  selfishness. 

"Forgive  me  if  there  is  any  offense,  but  I  must 
speak  the  truth,  even  though  I  die  in  the  utterance. 
Do  I  advocate  a  strike  ?  No,  it  ought  to  be  the  last 
resort.     The  workingmen  may  have  made  the  mistake 


176  A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit. 

of  taking  this  last  means  too  hastily.  After  every- 
thing else  has  failed,  what  is  there  for  the  men  to  do, 
if  not  to  strike? 

"We  are  coming  nearer  the  day  when  arbitration 
will  settle  these  disputes.  That  is  the  next  great 
epoch  in  the  history  of  labor,  but  until  that  hour,  I 
know  of  no  other  procedure  than  that  which  is  adopt- 
ed. I  am  not  prepared  to  say  how  it  shall  be  con- 
ducted. I  don't  think  there  should  be  force  used  to 
the  bodily  injury  of  other  men,  nor  should  there  be 
the  destruction  of  property.  I  am  convinced  that  the 
end  would  be  attained  and  public  sympathy  aroused 
more  quickly  by  the  right  and  lawful  way. 

"Public  opinion  is  the  great  force  to  keep  upon  your 
side.  You  must  lose  if  you  lose  that.  You  forfeit 
that  by  undue  haste  or  lawlessless. 

"Now,  I  am  afraid  that  some  of  you  have  disagreed 
with  me,  and  perhaps  may  be  even  offended  at  me, 
but  both  employers  and  employees  listen.  Be  calm 
and  fair.  Hear  me  through.  I  do  not  stand  for  my 
own  opinions  this  morning.  I  stand  for  the  thoughts 
and  purposes  of  Jesus  Christ.  What  are  the  great 
principles  which  he  came  to  introduce  into  the  world 
of  business  and  labor?  Both  sides  must  abide  by  his 
decision.  You  cannot  escape  it,  for  even  the  judg- 
ment throne  of  God  is  governed  by  the  Gospel. 

"A  distinguished  statesman,  who  now  holds  the 
high  office  of  associate  justice  of  the  Supreme  Court 


A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit.  177 

of  the  United  States,  said  recently :  'You  ministers 
are  making  a  fatal  mistake  in  not  holding  forth  be- 
fore men,  as  prominently  as  the  previous  generation 
did,  the  retributive  justice  of  God.  You  have  fallen 
into  a  sentimental  style  of  rhapsodizing  over  the  love 
of  God,  and  you  are  not  appealing  to  that  fear  of  fu- 
ture punishment  which  your  Lord  and  Master  made 
such  a  prominent  element  in  His  preaching.  And  we 
are  seeing  the  effects  of  it  in  the  widespread  demoral- 
ization of  private  virtue  and  corruption  of  public 
conscience  throughout  the  land.'  And  an  authority 
higher  than  any  statesman  or  jurist  has  said :  'I  will 
forewarn  you  whom  ye  shall  fear:  Fear  Him  who, 
when  He  hath  killed  the  body,  hath  power  to  cast 
both  soul  and  body  into  hell.'  It  is  a  sad  and  awful 
truth  that  sin  kills  beyond  the  tomb.  To  hide  this 
truth  from  men  by  cowardly  silence  is  disloyalty  to 
Him  who  hath  called  men  to*  preach  His  Gospel. 

"The  judgment  is  a  part  of  the  Gospel,  and  every 
man  must  face  it.  The  capitalist  will  answer  for 
every  dollar  that  he  has  made,  and  the  laborer  will  an- 
swer for  every  strike  he  has  inaugurated  or  in  which 
he  has  engaged. 

"I  have  said  once  that  Christ  would  belong  to  a 
labor  union.  I  have  no  reason  now  to  change  that 
declaration.  At  least,  if  he  would  not  belong  to  it,  I 
ought  not  and  you  should  not.  Neither  do  I  see  any 
reason  why  Christ  could  not  be  an  employer,  but  the 


178  A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit. 

same  divine  principle  would  control  his  acts  in  either 
place. 

"It  is  selfishness,  pure  and  unadulterated,  which  is 
at  the  source  of  misunderstandings  and  quarrels  be- 
tween capital  and  labor.  We  are  willing  that  Christ 
should  reign  in  the  Church  on  Sunday,  but  not  will- 
ing that  he  should  rule  in  our  lives  on  Monday. 

"Men  are  not  controlled  by  Christ's  law  of  service 
and  sacrifice  seven  days  in  the  week.  We  talk  about 
progress  in  the  world.  There  is  no  progress  apart 
from  unity.  We  must  all  keep  together,  and  no  man 
be  left  behind.  That  is  both  philosophy  and  religion 
— yes,  it  is  the  fact  itself.  The  hovels  of  the  poor  are 
not  far  from  the  palace  gates.  Dives  and  Lazarus  are 
blood  relatives.  Leave  one  part  of  the  city  in  ignor- 
ance and  want,  and  the  other  part  in  progress  ?  Never. 
We  move,  but  we  must  all  keep  together.  That  is  the 
principle  of  every  word  upon  the  lips  of  Christ,  and 
every  act  in  his  life.  This  is  the  brotherhood  of  man ; 
this  is  the  fatherhood  of  God ;  this  is  the  triumph  of 
the  Gospel ;  this  is  the  programme  of  Christianity. 
The  Golden  Rule  is  not  a  farce,  but  a  glorious  possi- 
bility and  reality.  The  end  of  all  this  must  be  Chris- 
tian arbitration.  Strikes  are  dangerous  and  injurious, 
if  not  altogether  wrong  and  contrary  to  our  Christian 
and  political  principles.  There  ought  to  be  some 
other  way,  and  there  must  be.  What  is  in  store  for 
factories  and  places  of  business  and  homes,  and  even 


A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit.  179 

the  Church,  if  a  mob  of  people  using  lynch  law  shall 
triumph?  What  is  in  future  for  men  if  the  railroad 
corporation  succeeds  without  arbitration?  It  would 
be  perilous  to  the  best  interests  of  us  all  to  have  them 
meet  with  success  and  force  men  to  work  for  less 
than  they  earn. 

"Would  to  God  a  court  of  arbitration  could  be  es- 
tablished on  Christian  principles,  and  the  impulse 
would  push  the  world  rapidly  nearer  the  throne  of 
God.  Would  to  God  that  you  employers  here  to-day 
could  take  hold  of  the  pierced  hand  of  Christ,  and  ask 
Him  to  lead  you.  Do  not  hesitate.  Make  the  ven- 
ture— dare  to  face  duty.  It  is  right,  it  is  the  only 
right ;  your  eternity  is  in  it.  Make  your  Christianity 
real.  Show  it  to  these  men — yes,  show  Christ  to 
them.  That  is  your  first  business.  Give  them  jus- 
tice— aye,  more  than  that — give  them  sacrifice  or  you 
do  not  share  in  Calvary. 

"Oh,  you  men  who  are  in  the  labor  unions  of  the 
city,  whether  in  the  street  car  strike  or  not,  hearken 
to  me.  This  is  not  rhetoric  now.  This  is  my  blood. 
Give  Jesus  Christ  a  chance  in  your  life.  Your  em- 
ployers may  not  be  all  to  blame.  Is  your  record  in  re- 
lation to  them  perfectly  clean?  Have  you  always 
done  unto  them  as  you  would  that  they  should  do  to 
you  ?  Stand  up  like  a  man  against  every  wrong  meth- 
od, and  only  do  what  you  know  the  Carpenter  of  Naz- 
areth would  do  in  your  place.    Make  the  Gospel  prac- 


180  A  Hero  in  the  Pulpit. 

tical.  It  can  be.  It  was  intended  for  your  union  and 
your  toil.  Christ  wants  you  ;  the  Church  wants  you  ; 
I  want  you — every  man  of  you,  to  give  your  hearts 
to  the  Lord  Jesus  and  serve  Him. 

"The  only  remedy  for  labor  and  all  trouble  is  His 
Divine  Spirit  in  the  hearts  of  individual  men.  Christ 
saved  society,  but,  man,  he  must  first  save  you." 

There  was  perfect  silence  in  the  great  audience  for 
a  half  minute  after  Mr.  Dowling  finished. 

Then  the  services  closed  in  almost  the  same  quiet, 
and  few  tarried  to  speak  with  each  other.  The  im- 
pression was  so  great.  The  burning  conviction  of  a 
true  man  had  entered  the  hearts  of  every  listener. 

The  preacher  went  immediately  to  his  room,  and 
wondered,  but  was  satisfied.  Duty  done  is  the  author 
of  peace  in  the  soul. 

Within  two  months,  twenty-nine  members  of  the  la- 
bor union  had  accepted  Christ  as  their  Saviour,  and 
became  members  of  David  Dowling's  church. 


CHAPTER  X. 

HENRY  FIELDING'S  CONVERSION. 

In  the  last  meeting  of  Union  No.  10  there  had  been 
a  most  earnest  desire  manifested  to  do  the  right  thing. 
More  so  than  ever  before.  Now  the  business  and  dis- 
cussion were  more  personal,  and  yet  the  men  were 
more  conservative  and  charitable  than  in  the  past. 
Most  of  them  were  not  conscious  of  it,  but  it  was 
plainly  manifest.  Some  new  power  had  control,  and 
they  were  breathing  a  purer  air. 

The  question  now  was  not  one  of  strikes  in  gen- 
eral or  concerning  the  street  car  strike  now  going  on, 
but  it  was  their  own  interest  and  their  own  families 
which  were  to  suffer.  They  were  sure  of  the  lockout. 
It  had  passed  beyond  the  boundaries  of  threat  and 
was  assuming  a  distinct  form  of  reality. 

Most  of  the  men  were  undecided.  They  wanted  to 
be  independent  and  heroic  enough  to-  fight  and  starve 
if  necessary,  but  their  case  was  not  altogether  a  clear 
one.  There  were  two  sides  to  it,  and  they  were  honest 
enough  not  to  desire  to  ignore  that,  and  close  their 
eyes  willfully  to  the  rights  of  their  employers. 

The  rabid  enthusiast  was  heard  many  times  during 
the  meeting  that  night.     A  decision  must  be  made 


1 82       Henry  Fielding's  Conversion. 

and  the  narrow  vision  could  only  see  one  way.  Throw 
down  the  challenge  and  go  into  battle  without  count- 
ing the  cost,  or  placing  the  cause  into  the  scales  and 
taking  time  to  let  it  balance  ? 

Never  had  they  held  such  a  meeting  in  the  display 
of  true  manhood.  It  was  not  a  radical,  unreasonable, 
unjust  denunciation  of  the  men  who  employed  them, 
but  a  spirit  of  nobility  and  desire  to  come  to  a  right- 
eous reconciliation. 

The  rule  is  that  there  is  only  one  result  to  that  feel- 
ing in  the  soul,  whether  in  factory  or  home,  Church 
or  State,  on  earth  or  in  heaven.  There  may  be  excep- 
tions, but  the  rule  remains. 

That  meeting,  long  to  be  remembered  by  every  man 
who  was  there,  lasted  until  twelve  o'clock  at  night, 
with  the  victorious  result  of  the  appointment  of  a 
committee,  consisting  of  Henry  Fielding,  James 
Watts  and  the  Rev.  David  Dowling,  to  go  at  once  to 
the  employers  and  strive  to  adjust  the  affair  satisfac- 
torily to  both  sides. 

The  conclusion  had  been  reached  that  it  was  more 
misunderstanding  than  fault  on  either  side.  It  was 
the  new  way  of  doing  it,  but  it  was  unquestionably  the 
right  way. 

If  war  is  ever  righteous  anywhere,  it  can  only  be 
so  as  the  last  resort  in  securing  justice.  There  is  a 
better  way  first.    This  was  that  better  way. 

It  was  a  new  experience  for  David  Dowling  again, 


Henry  Fielding's  Conversion.       183 

but  he  was  not  the  man  to  hesitate  now.  He  had 
passed  that,  and  was  rather  anxious  to  serve  the 
workingmen  in  any  possible  way,  and  this  had  been 
one  of  the  dreams  of  the  past  weeks :  "Why  not  the 
preacher,  the  man  supposed  to  be  nearest  Christ,  act 
as  a  peacemaker?"  he  had  asked  himself,  and  they  did 
not  know  it,  but  he  was  ready  for  the  opportunity  to 
try  this  Christ  method  in  labor  disputes,  as  well  as  in 
every  other  place. 

The  very  next  morning',  as  soon  as  the  information 
reached  him,  he  went  to  the  factory,  and  at  noontime 
the  three  entered  the  private  office  by  appointment 
for  the  conference. 

The  conversation  was  almost  too  sacred  to  be  re- 
peated. 

The  revelation  of  kindness  and  good  intent  was  be- 
yond their  expectation.  Neither  the  members  of  the 
firm,  nor  the  superintendent  displayed  any  ill  feeling, 
much  less  any  anger. 

They  said  they  would  rather  keep  their  old  men, 
but  only  insisted  in  running  their  own  business  in 
their  own  way,  which  they  would  guarantee  them 
was  always  in  the  interests  of  their  employees,  as  well 
as  themselves.  They  tried  to  make  it  plain  that  the 
introduction  of  new  machinery  was  essential  to  suc- 
cess there,  and  even  to  the  keeping  of  the  factory  run- 
ning. They  had  to  be  up  with  the  times.  It  was  a 
case  of  necessity,  and  not  selfishness.     Quality  and 


184       Henry  Fielding's  Conversion. 

quantity  of  work  must  be  turned  out,  and  where  it 
changed  the  hands  about,  and  in  some  cases  demanded 
a  less  number,  it  would  in  the  end  result  for  the  good 
of  all. 

They  finally  agreed  to  keep  them  all,  at  least  for 
the  present,  and  see  what  the  future  demanded. 

One  of  the  employers  spoke  up  and  said  : 

"I  don't  honestly  believe  that  I  want  to  see  your 
families  suffer  any  more  than  I  do  my  own.  I  am 
willing  to  sacrifice  for  the  good  of  every  faithful  man 
in  this  factory,  but  you  don't  know  how  I  have 
passed  my  nights  this  last  year.  I  have  worked  all 
my  life  up  to  this  point,  and  it  looked  dark  many 
days  at  noonday.  We  have  made  just  half  this  year 
what  we  made  two  years  ago.  Of  course,  it  is  not 
our  business  to  tell  our  men  all  that,  but  not  one  of 
them  has  lost  a  dollar  of  his  wages  this  year,  even 
if  I  have  lost  a  part  of  that  which  I  gave  my  whole 
life  to  secure." 

His  partner  interrupted,  and  said: 

"Yes,  I  have  wished  sometimes  that  I  was  one  of 
the  men  in  our  employ  instead  of  having  this  load  on 
my  hands." 

Henry  explained  the  position  of  the  men  as  best  he 
could,  and  said  it  looked  so  much  different  from  their 
standpoint,  but  he  believed  every  man  of  them,  when 
the  report  was  returned,  would  do  the  right  thing, 


Henry  Fielding's  Conversion.       185 

and  would  be  more  content  in  the  future — at  least, 
not  so  quick  to  condemn. 

Mr.  Dowling  told  them  of  his  confidence  in  the 
victory  of  the  Christ  spirit.  While  they  might  not 
be  members  of  the  Church,  it  nevertheless  remained 
true  everywhere  that  the  principles  and  example  of 
the  Saviour  of  men  were  destined  to  triumph.  They 
need  not  fear  them,  nor  regard  them  as  something 
foreign  to  a  labor  union  or  a  factory.  It  was  the  very 
intent  of  the  Gospel  to  settle  all  these  things  for  the 
good  of  all. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "I  never  felt  so  much  in  my 
life  the  possibility  of  bringing  the  Christ  into  all  the 
relations  of  life,  and  sweetening  them  by  His  divine 
influence.  I  used  to  preach  a  Gospel.  I  am  now 
going  to  preach  the  Gospel — yes,  and  practice  it, 
too,  God  help  me." 

There  were  three  men  in  the  firm,  but  only  one  of 
them  was  a  Christian.  Not  a  word  was  said,  but  if 
silence  ever  gave  consent  it  was  at  that  moment. 
Every  man  in  the  room  was  saying  in  the  secret 
quiet  of  his  own  soul,  "There  is  a  better  way — this 
is  it." 

Misunderstanding  and  misrepresentation  are  twin 
demons  standing  between  capital  and  labor  and  work- 
ing night  and  day  in  their  diabolical  efforts  to  bring 
up  the  forces  of  either  side  in  battle  array.  A  calm 
consideration  and  a  Christian  charity  would  settle 


1 86        Henry  Fielding's  Conversion. 

almost  every  contention  and  strife  in  the  industrial 
world.  Wise  and  unselfish  arbitration  would  change 
the  whole  aspect  of  each  individual  case  by  itself,  and 
the  whole  horizon  of  the  world  of  labor — yes,  it 
would  drive  every  cloud  from  the  sky,  and  heaven's 
own  blue  would  reflect  a  world  of  peace  and  love. 

Union  No.  10  had  learned  its  greatest  lesson  in 
an  hour  of  sublimest  experience.  Their  employers 
discovered  their  fault  and  made  most  sacred  prom- 
ises. The  relations  were  never  so  harmonious,  and 
the  contentment  was  never  so  sweet. 

The  next  Sunday  evening  two  of  the  firm  and  the 
superintendent  were  in  Mr.  Dowling's  church,  re- 
vealing their  respect  for  him,  and  appreciation  of  his 
action  in  behalf  of  the  men.  They  did  not  condemn 
him  for  coming  in  the  committee  of  the  men,  but 
honored  him  for  it,  and  wanted  to  hear  him.  They 
had  said  to  each  other :  "He  is  a  manly  fellow,  dif- 
ferent from  some  ministers.  He  does  not  live  in  his 
pulpit.  He  lives  among  men.  He  is  not  one  of  your 
droning,  sniveling  specimens.     He  is  alive." 

That  was  the  very  Sunday  evening  when  one  of  the 
greatest  manifestations  of  the  power  of  the  Divine 
Spirit  of  God's  direct  answer  to  prayer  were  given  to 
David  Dowling. 

It  had  been  a  simple  Gospel  sermon  about  the 
young  man  who  had  kept  the  whole  law,  and  to  whom 
Christ  said,  "One  thing  thou  lackest."     He  was  dra- 


Henry  Fielding's  Conversion.        187 

matic  in  his  style,  and  his  picture  of  this  scene  and 
a  demonstration  of  Christ's  anxiety  and  love  for  the 
noble  fellow  was  most  vivid. 

When  he  came  to  the  tragedy  of  the  scene,  where 
the  young  man  would  not  surrender,  and  went  away 
in  sorrow,  it  seemed  as  if  everybody  in  the  building 
could  see  the  very  event  itself. 

One  of  Mr.  Dowling's  hearers  saw  himself  in  his 
morality  going  away  from  Christ,  and  in  sorrow,  too. 
It  was  Henry  Fielding.     He  was  saying  to  himself: 

"It  is  myself,  it  is  myself.  That  is  just  what  I 
have  done;  I  am  doing  it  to-night.  Why  not  give 
up? — I  am  in  the  wrong." 

A  hundred  times  the  same  thoughts  and  convic- 
tions shot  through  his  very  soul.  He  tried  to  drive 
them  away,  or  at  least  not  let  his  feelings  be  apparent 
to  any  one  else. 

Immediately  after  the  service,  Grace  came  up  to 
him,  and  with  the  same  expression  of  delight  to  meet 
him,  she  said : 

"Oh,  was  not  that  a  splendid  sermon  ?  How  strik- 
ing the  picture !" 

Henry  had  moved  a  half-dozen  times  while  she  was 
saying  only  those  few  words,  but  not  away  from  her. 
He  hastened  to  make  some  response  about  her 
father's  health,  as  he  had  been  ill  for  some  time. 

She  answered  him,  but  was  too  much  interested 
in  something  else  just  then.     She  came  to  say  it. 


1 88       Henry  Fielding's  Conversion. 

She  hesitated.  She  said,  "I  will,"  and  then  looked 
into  his  face,  and  said: 

"Mr.  Fielding,  I  wish  you  were  a  Christian." 

Henry  was  never  so  bewildered  in  his  life.  He 
did  not  expect  it  from  her.  He  could  not  just  realize 
it.  He  did  not  know  what  to  say.  He  turned  his 
head  away  for  a  second,  and  then  looked  in  her  eyes, 
only  to  discover  a  tear. 

It  was  a  more  brilliant  and  valuable  jewel  than  the 
diamonds  in  her  ears,  or  the  ruby  upon  her  fingers. 
What  could  he  say?  There  was  only  one  thing 
to  say. 

If  he  would  be  honest  before  a  girl  who  dared  to 
do  that,  and  before  the  girl  whom  he  even  dared  to 
love,  he  must  say  only  the  one  thing. 

In  a  partial  whisper,  he  replied : 

"I  wish  I  was,  too,  but  do  not  talk  about  it  to- 
night.   You  have  said  enough,"  he  continued. 

Just  then,  in  the  plan  of  God,  Elsie  appeared,  and 
said: 

"Henry,  are  you  most  ready  to  go?" 

"I  am  afraid  not  yet.  I  wonder  if  you  could  not 
go  alone  to-night,  sister.  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Dowling 
before  I  go,  and  I  do  not  know  how  long  I  shall  be." 

"Certainly,"  said  she. 

"I  will  see  her  half  way,"  said  Grace. 

"Yes,  we  will  take  care  of  each  other,"  added  Elsie. 


Henry  Fielding's  Conversion.       189 

Henry  turned  away  as  if  anxious  to  go,  and  very 
nervous  in  every  movement. 

"I  wonder  what  he  wants  of  Mr.  Dowling  to- 
night," said  Elsie. 

"Never  mind,"  answered  Grace,  "you  let  them  go. 
I  think  I  know." 

"I  can  guess  what  you  mean;  I  am  so  glad.  Do 
you  mean  that  he  wants  to  talk  to  Mr.  Dowling  about 
becoming  a  Christian  ?"  asked  Elsie. 

"Yes,  that's  just  it,  and  we  will  both  pray  for  him. 
I  know  it  will  be  all  right,"  said  Grace,  with  a 
mingling  of  earnestness  and  joy. 

Henry  had  already  approached  Mr.  Dowling,  and 
before  he  had  opportunity  to  make  his  desire  known, 
the  warm  hand  of  the  preacher  had  grasped  his,  and 
the  warm  heart  had  gone  out  after  him  again,  as 
often  before,  and  now  the  direction  of  the  Spirit  was 
heeded,  and  he  said  : 

"Henry,  I  was  preaching  to  you  to-night.  Christ 
loves  you.  You  were  that  young  man,  moral  and 
good,  but  you  are  going  away  from  Jesus,  and  I 
know  you  are  not  happy,  either.  Why  not  make  the 
surrender?  You  know  what  is  right — do  it,  and  do  it 
right  away.  If  you  have  faults  to  find  with  me  and 
the  Church,  forget  them  now.  You  cannot  find  any 
fault  with  Christ." 

Mr.  Dowling  was  going  on  in  his  enthusiastic  ex- 


190       Henry  Fielding's  Conversion. 

hortation  and  plea,  when  Henry,  with  his  eyes  to  the 
floor,  interrupted,  and  said  : 

"I  have  not  as  much  fault  to  find  as  formerly. 
You  can  depend  upon  that.  I  was  mostly  in  the 
wrong — I  did  not  understand.  Yes,  I  did  not  under- 
stand myself,  nor  you,  nor  the  Church,  nor  Christ, 
nor  anything  else,  as  I  should.  I  look  at  it  differ- 
ently now." 

"I  am  so  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  Mr.  Dowling. 
"Come  into  my  room  for  a  moment,  won't  you  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Henry,  in  a  manly,  determined  tone  of 
voice. 

As  they  walked  toward  the  door  of  his  room,  Mr. 
Dowling  said : 

"I  am  very  tired  to-night,  but  I  will  stay  here  all 
night,  Henry,  if  you  will  only  give  your  heart  to 
Christ." 

When  once  the  door  closed  behind  them,  and  the 
key  was  turned  in  the  lock,  Henry  Fielding  felt  that 
he  had  never  really  understood  a  minister. 

What  occurred  ought  to  be  only  for  angel  vision. 
It  was  just  like  Christ  with  the  young  man,  or  Nico- 
demus  in  the  night-time.  They  were  both  honest 
and  earnest,  and  in  such  a  case  the  result  is  inevit- 
able. 

Mr.  Dowling  simply  opened  his  heart  at  the  first, 
and  told  of  the  meaning  and  the  power  of  Christ  in 


Henry  Fielding's  Conversion.       191 

his  own  life.     How  temptation  and   sin  swarmed 
around  him,  the  same  as  any  other  man.     He  said : 

"Henry,  don't  think  that  I  live  in  a  different  world 
from  yours ;  and  that  what  is  real  to  me,  will  not  be 
so  to  you.    You  will  have  one  enemy  to  fight,  and  I 
will  have  another,  'but  His  grace  is  sufficient.'    You 
do  not  know  what  I  pass  through  in  battle,  but  I  am 
determined  to  have  a  character  at  whatever  cost  to 
am  determined  to  have  a  character  at  any  cost,  to 
anything  else  in  my  life.    I  used  to  be  anxious  for  a 
reputation,  and  even  was  so  low  in  my  aim  at  one 
time  that  I  wanted  only  a  good  salary,  but  all  that  is 
changed.    I  am  crying  to  God  every  day  to  make  me 
like  Christ,  and  I  will  pay  the  price.    This  is  always 
part  of  my  prayer,  'Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,  e'en 
though  it  be  a  cross  that  raiseth  me.'     I  have  even 
told  Him  to  take  my  health,  or  loved  ones,  or  any- 
thing, only  leave  me  in  the  image  and  likeness  of 
Christ.    You  do  not  know  what  a  struggle  is  in  my 
life.    Just  look  at  this  one  peril  of  the  minister.    He 
is  so  tempted  to  be  jealous  of  the  other  men.    You 
would  think  that  might  be  the  last  fault.    He  ought 
to  rejoice  in  the  prosperity  of  every  church  and  every 
preacher,  but  there  is  the  difficulty.    The  other  man 
has  a  larger  audience,  or  more  conversions,  seem- 
ingly greater  prosperity.    Then  jealousy  mounts  the 
throne  of  my  heart,  and  demands  my  subjection.     I 
have  been  a  slave,  but,  God  helping  me,  I  never  will 


192       Henry  Fielding's  Conversion. 

be  again.  This  world  is  large  enough  for  my  neigh- 
bor and  myself  both,  but  the  old  and  mean  feeling 
keeps  coming  up  when  he  seems  to  have  the  best, 
and  the  tendency  to  injure  him  pushes  its  foul  self 
to  the  front.  Now,  Henry,  some  of  these  things  may 
not  seize  you  with  such  a  relentless  grip,  and  other 
things  may  be  more  powerful  in  your  life.  The 
enemy  is  there,  facing  us  all  with  a  boldness  which 
only  wickedness  possesses,  but  I  want  you  to  know 
that  Christianity  is  not  only  for  the  preacher,  but 
for  every  man.  I  am  first  a  man,  and  just  like  your- 
self." 

Henry  sat  with  eyes  fastened  apparently  upon  a 
picture  hanging  at  the  side  of  the  room,  but  it  was 
not  there  to  him.  It  was  all  blank  wall.  He  was 
listening  to  every  word  from  the  lips  of  one  whom  he 
respected  most,  and  whose  spirit  was  now  making 
him  seem  nearer  every  moment. 

He  wanted  to  do  right,  and  was  an  honest  seeker 
after  truth,  but  to  him  the  new  birth  as  yet  seemed 
mysterious  and  unreal. 

He  was  doing  the  best  he  could  ,he  thought,  and 
what  more  does  a  new  birth  mean? 

"Now,"  Mr.  Dowling  said,  "there  is  one  thing  you 
lack." 

"What  is  that?"  asked  he. 

"That  is  conversion." 

"Just  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  queried  Henry. 


Henry  Fielding's  Conversion.       193 

"Except  you  be  converted,  and  become  as  a  little 
child,  you  cannot  enter  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 

"Yes ;  but  what  is  conversion  ?" 

"Only  this,  Henry.  Convert  means  to  turn  around 
— face  about.  You  have  your  eyes  Howard  yourself 
and  your  own  moral  life,  and  even  your  sin.  You 
must  turn  around  and  face  Christ.  That  is  all. 
Trust  Him,  love  Him,  and  serve  Him.  One  side  of 
that  great  act  is  faith,  and  the  other  side  is  repent- 
ance. You  repent  of  your  sin,  and  you  trust  in 
Christ  as  your  Saviour.  Is  that  not  simple?  This  is 
the  meaning  of  Calvary  to  you.  This  is  the  divine 
plan  of  salvation  for  us  all.  You  may  not  live  much 
differently  in  the  future  outwardly,  but  you  will  live 
with  a  different  disposition  and  a  new  spirit.  It  is 
just  giving  up  to  God's  way,  in  sorrow,  for  all  the 
sin  of  your  life.  Isn't  that  simplicity  itself?  The 
great  mystery  of  the  universe,  and  yet  a  child  can 
understand  how  to  say  'sorry'  to  God.  I  asked  my 
little  boy  Will,  eight  years  old,  when  he  gave  his 
heart  to  Jesus,  and  instantly  he  replied,  'Why,  papa, 
ever  since  I  first  heard  of  Him.'  Was  not  that  beau- 
tiful? Why  do  not  all  men  treat  the  Saviour  like 
that?" 

"Well,  Mr.  Dowling,  I  am  ready,  in  as  far  as  I 
know,  to  do  it.  This  has  been  creeping  over  me  for 
some  weeks — in  fact,  ever  since  I  first  began  coming 
to  church,  and  I  have  been  awake  many  times  in  the 


194       Henry  Fielding's  Conversion. 

night  this  last  week,  and  have  even  tried  to  pray  my- 
self right." 

"This  is  all,  Henry;  just  this  prayer  now  settles  it 
ror  eternity :  'God,  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner,  for 
Christ's  sake.'  That  is  coming  to  Christ,  and  that  is 
going  to  heaven.  'He  that  believeth  hath  everlast- 
ing life.' " 

They  knelt  at  the  same  chair.  The  hand  of  Mr. 
Dowling  rested  on  the  farther  shoulder  of  his  com- 
panion, and  great  tears  dropped  from  four  eyes  to  the 
floor. 

Angels  carried  the  news  to  the  city  of  God,  and 
there  was  rejoicing  around  the  throne. 

Elsie  was  awake  when  Henry  came  in,  but  she  was 
in  her  room,  and  refrained  from  telling  him  her  joy, 
or  asking  the  one  important  question.  Never  had 
her  heart  such  an  effort  to  control  her  lips,  but  she 
did,  and  it  was  best. 

In  the  morning  there  was  a  strange  occurrence. 
No,  it  was  almost  the  ordinary  one,  but,  alas,  always 
unexpected. 

Henry  anticipated  that  everything  was  going  bet- 
ter. 

Elsie  expected  a  new  world,  but  the  great  tempter 
was  planning  his  best  work.    He  always  does. 

For  the  first  time  in  a  year,  the  alarm  clock  did 
not  awaken  Henry.  In  his  excitement  the  night  be- 
fore, he  had  forgotten  to  wind  it.     When  his  eyes 


Henry  Fielding's  Conversion.       195 

opened  in  the  morning,  he  was  half  an  hour  late. 
All  things  were  in  their  wrong  places,  and  haste  only 
made  waste. 

Just  before  he  was  going  away,  Henry  said  some- 
thing to  his  sister,  which  had  in  it  only  the  shadow  of 
unkindliness,  but  it  was  a  sword  as  large  as  the  one  of 
Goliath  thrust  into  her  tender  heart. 

She  could  hardly  control  her  feelings,  and  the  door 
closed  with  more  of  a  bang  than  usual,  and  he  was 
gone. 

Elsie  sat  down,  and  had  it  out  the  girl's  way— a 
good  cry  was  a  relief. 

Henry  could  have  done  the  same,  if  he  dared.  He 
said : 

"There  can  be  no  reality  in  what  I  did  last  night. 
I  am  not  a  Christian  yet,  or  I  would  not  have  said 
that  to  her.  She  did  not  do  anything.  It  was  all  my 
own  fault,  and  I  am  glad  that  I  did  not  tell  her  about 
my  new  life  before  I  tried  it." 

Henry  Fielding  was  in  the  warfare  that  they  had 
talked  about,  and  his  enemy  was  doing  his  very  best 
to  conquer. 

This  was  the  last  opportunity. 
That  was  the  longest  and  hardest  day  he  ever  had, 
but  it  was  a  day  of  victory,  because  he  had  stamped 
his  foot  a  score  of  times,  and  said,  "I  will." 

As  soon  as  he  entered  their  home  that  night,  he 


196       Henry  Fielding's  Conversion. 

did  not  place  his  hat  before  he  went  to  Elsie's  side, 
and  said  in  tenderest  tones : 

"Elsie,  I  want  you  to  forgive  me." 

That  was  the  greatest  evidence  of  his  conversion, 
but  he  did  not  realize  it. 

She  sat  down  and  had  to  cry  again. 

There  was  something  else  in  it  now,  and  when  her 
brother  attempted  to  comfort  her,  she  only  said : 
"Wait  a  minute,  and  I  will  tell  you." 

Then  she  told  him  of  her  happiness  ;  that  they  were 
tears  of  deepest  joy,  because  he  had  become  a  Chris- 
tian. She  knew  it,  even  though  he  had  not  told  her, 
and  she  said :  "Your  doing  this,  which  you  never  did 
before,  is  the  best  proof.  Your  coming  to  me  in  this 
Christ-like  way  tells  the  whole  story.  Now,  I  can 
reveal  another  secret  to  you.  I  could  not  tell  you 
before;  I  was  afraid  you  would  not  bear  it,  as  I 
know  you  will  now.  You  can  bear  all  things  now 
through  Christ,  and  I  am  sure  this  will  be  such  a 
sorrow  and  disappointment  to  you.  You  have  been 
so  good  to  me,  and  such  a  noble  brother.  You  have 
made  so  many  sacrifices  for  me  and  my  music  les- 
sons. I  have  done  my  best  to  learn,  and  you  know 
how  far  I  have  advanced,  especially  with  my  last 
teacher,  but  every  time  your  hard-earned  money 
went  to  pay  for  the  lessons,  I  felt  as  if  I  was  guilty  of 
a  crime,  and  now  this  is  the  saddest  part  of  it." 

"I  will  bear  it,  and  no*  care.    What  do  you  mean  ?" 


Henry  Fielding's  Conversion.        197 

he  asked,  as  she  made  the  slightest  pause.  "Tell 
me,"  he  said,  anxiously,  as  he  rose  and  looked  down 
at  her. 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  weeks  to  tell  you,  and  I 
don't  want  you  to  feel  badly." 

Then  she  held  up  her  hand  in  front  of  him. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  again  he  asked. 

"Do  you  not  see,  Henry,  how  the  two  middle  fin- 
gers are  getting  out  of  shape." 

Henry  looked  puzzled,  and  asked  again  : 

"Elsie,  do  you  really  mean  that  there  is  something 
the  matter  with  your  hand?" 

"Yes,  Henry;  I  have  been  to  the  doctors,  and  it 
has  only  been  growing  worse.  It  is  rheumatism,  and 
is  coming  in  the  other  hand,  too.  They  say  it  is  in 
the  joints,  and  this  is  the  bitterest  drop  in  the  cup 
for  me,  that  all  your  money  and  sacrifice  have  been 
thrown  away." 

"Now,  Elsie,  wait ;  this  cannot  all  be  as  you  think. 
Something  can  be  done  for  it,  I  am  sure." 

"No,  they  all  say  the  same  thing,  and  I  have  been 
just  as  careful  as  I  possibly  could.  I  have  tried 
everything,  but  it  has  all  failed.  I  waited  until  I  was 
sure  before  I  told  you.  It  increases  slowly,  but  there 
is  an  increase  all  the  time.  I  have  not  taken  any  les- 
sons for  two  weeks.  It  is  no  use  any  more.  I  will  be 
satisfied,  Henry,  if  you  will  only  bear  the  disappoint- 
ment.    I  can  stand  anything  now,  since  you  are  a 


198       Henry  Fielding's  Conversion. 

Christian.  This  is  only  a  part  of  what  Christ  suf- 
fered for  us  both." 

"You  are  the  bravest,  best  girl  in  the  world,  worth 
a  dozen  others,  and  I  shall  x*ever  regret  any  gift  to 
you;  but  I  believe  there  is  hope  yet.  We  will  try 
every  remedy  before  we  give  up." 

Henry  did  not  realize  it,  but  it  was  rheumatism, 
and  Elsie's  worst  fears  were  to  come  to  pass.  She 
never  played  the  piano  after  that  night.  The  disease 
continued  its  ravages  until  she  was  crippled  for  life, 
but  she  was  a  queen  among  women,  because  of  her 
Christian  fortitude  and  faith. 

She  set  a  bright  example  for  all  the  world  who 
knew  her. 

Patience  and  trust,  the  sweetest,  rested  in  every 
feature  of  her  face,  and  in  every  move  of  her  crippled 
form. 

What  a  strange  day  this  had  been  for  Henry,  the 
first  day  after  his  conversion.  No,  it  was  not  strange ; 
it  was  only  part  of  real  life.  The  bridge  was  built. 
This  was  the  weight  to  test  it,  before  the  security 
was  certain. 


CHAPTER  XL 
the:  chasm  bridged. 

One  year  and  a  part  of  the  second  has  passed  into 
the  records  of  a  Christian  life,  since  Henry  Fielding's 
conversion. 

Never  was  there  a  more  kingly  attitude  assumed 
in  a  man's  relation  to  the  Master  of  men  than  he  car- 
ried into  every  part  of  his  life.  His  spirit  and  cour- 
age won  the  admiration  of  all  his  fellow-workmen, 
and,  during  these  short  months,  his  influence  had 
brought  several  of  them  into  the  Church. 

Richard  was  one  of  the  first  to  come  under  that 
power,  which  is  almost  beyond  resistance — a  manly, 
Christian  character. 

Henry  did  not  talk  it  much,  but  how  beautifully 
he  lived  it,  and  revealed  the  possibility  in  every  work- 
ingman's  life. 

His  constant  effort  was  to  bring  the  Church  in  the 
right  light  before  the  men  and  the  union,  and  in- 
crease the  solidity  of  the  confidence  in  the  minister, 
and  his  interest  in  them  and  their  work. 

This  had  grown  upon  them  all,  and  David  Dowling 
had  come  to  be  a  potent  factor  in  the  organization. 
They  no  longer  shivered  in  his  presence,  but  now 


2oo  The  Chasm  Bridged. 

crowded  up  to  his  great  warm  heart,  as  to  an  open 
fireplace  in  a  world's  winter. 

Henry  Fielding's  life  had  completely  changed 
within  a  few  short  months.  The  change  was  almost 
as  great  as  a  move  from  earth  to  the  planet  Mars — 
perhaps  greater,  for,  after  all,  would  that  be  so  great  ? 

Time  is  the  large  element  in  life's  changes,  and 
in  unraveling  mysteries  and  revealing  destiny.  Yes- 
terday and  to-day  are  not  all.  That  makes  a  puzzle 
without  an  answer. 

Henry  had  learned  to  say  "to-morrow,"  and  to  be- 
lieve in  the  future  of  a  conscientious  and  sacrificial 
life. 

Only  a  short  period  of  time  had  intervened  be- 
tween the  present  condition,  under  a  starry  sky,  and 
the  first  moment  when  he  looked  into  the  face  of 
Grace  Chalmers,  and  saw  what  his  eyes  had  never 
seen  before,  and  what  no  one  else  saw  at  that  in- 
stant. 

Those  are  visions  not  to  be  described,  and  feel- 
ings enveloped  in  too  great  a  sanctity  for  exhibition. 

But  as  no  one  knew  what  his  eyes  carried  into  the 
deeps  of  his  soul,  so  no  one  knew  the  bitter  con- 
demnation of  himself,  and  the  imagination  that  there 
was  something  wrong  with  his  head  as  well  as  his 
heart. 

He  almost  instantly  saw  a  great  chasm  appear  be- 
tween himself  and  his  ideal  of  woman. 


The  Chasm  Bridged.  201 

As  the  days  passed,  that  deep,  wide  and  dark  ob- 
struction seemed  to  grow  deeper  and  wider  and 
darker,  but  there  are  bridges  over  such  depths.  The 
world  is  not  made  to  doom  man  to  disappointment, 
and  to  cruelly  mock  him.  Heroic  honesty  in  life,  and 
character,  and  purpose,  is  an  architect  almost  divine. 

Not  all  the  reward  of  sacrifice  is  reserved  for  the 
upper  world.  In  the  plan  and  providence  of  God, 
the  earth  is  good  enough  for  some  of  it. 

He  had  given  himself  in  sublimest  sacrifice  for 
Elsie  and  others.  He  had  unhesitatingly  taken  the 
bright  star  of  hope  from  his  own  sky,  and  transferred 
it  to  hers.  The  money  saved  for  himself  and  for  the 
purchase  of  his  ambitious  dream,  was  lovingly  laid 
in  her  hand.  It  was  not  lost.  Even  rheumatism 
could  not  be  the  robber.  It  was  the  most  righteous 
and  profitable  investment.  Dividends  were  never  to 
be  withheld. 

The  old  home  in  Vermont  had  been  sold,  the  in- 
debtedness upon  it  paid,  and  the  remnant  c  f  the 
money  used  to  purchase  a  small,  but  beautiful,  home 
for  them  in  the  suburbs  of  the  city. 

The  change  from  the  crowded  and  unattractive 
third-story  rooms  into  this  new  and  comfortable 
place  was  one  of  the  strands  for  the  bridge  over  the 
chasm.  It  was  not  accident  or  chance.  It  was  in- 
tended.   It  brought  him  and  Grace  Chalmers  nearer 


202  The  Chasm  Bridged. 

together.  There  was  distance  and  depth  yet,  but  it 
was  not  so  great. 

There  was  another  cable  for  the  bridge,  when 
Henry  was  promoted  to  the  position  of  foreman  in 
his  department.  It  was  one  of  the  greatest  surprises 
of  his  life,  and  still  no  one  was  more  worthy  of  it. 

For  years  his  fidelity  had  never  been  relaxed.  His 
quick  eye  and  hand  learned  with  great  rapidity.  It 
was  most  appropriate  now  that  his  ability  and  loyalty 
should  be  recognized. 

The  foreman  had  lost  his  position  through  some 
disagreement  with  the  men  and  his  employers  both, 
and  no  greater  astonishment  could  have  been  met 
than  that  of  Henry  when  he  was  summoned  to  the 
office,  and  asked  to  accept  the  position.  His  salary 
was  multiplied  by  three. 

That  elevation  brought  him  nearer  to  the  young 
woman  whom  he  had  ventured  in  almost  audacity  to 
more  than  admire. 

During  the  year  her  father,  who  had  been  ill  for 
several  months,  had  died.  His  pride,  which  would 
have  been  the  greatest  obstacle,  was  thus  removed. 
He  had  spoken  to  Henry,  and  even  engaged  in  short 
conversation  with  him  at  the  church,  but  never 
dreamed  of  the  great  secret  in  his  heart. 

This  was  the  most  gigantic  barrier  of  all,  and  now 
the  chasm  was  narrowing. 

But  the  largest  and  strongest  cable  in  the  bridge 


The  Chasm  Bridged.  203 

was  his  own  surrender  to  Christ.  There  was  not 
anything  in  the  world  so  powerful  in  winning  Grace 
Chalmers  as  the  might  and  attraction  of  character. 

She  had  liked  Henry  Fielding  before.  That  sur- 
face element  was  changing  into  something  deeper 
now.  Her  religion  was  the  most  real  part  of  her  life. 
It  was  the  best  part  of  any  other  life,  in  her  estima- 
tion. 

Her  father  had  left  her  a  small  fortune  in  her  own 
right,  but  she  did  not  think  of  that,  like  most  rich 
girls,  as  being  the  real  value  and  the  wealth  of  the 
world.  To  her,  that  was  secondary  to  the  eternal 
values. 

If  many  girls  of  her  standing  in  society  were 
frivolous,  and  recognized  not  the  wealth  of  goodness, 
she  was  not  alone  in  her  position.  There  are  many 
young  women,  with  fortunes  of  their  own,  who  are 
not  all  for  society,  and  show,  and  sham.  She  was  not 
the  exception.  She  was  only  a  representative  of  a 
number. 

She  often  said :  "I  care  not  what  others  do.  I 
am  first  going  to  serve  God,  and  in  order  to  serve 
Him,  I  must  serve  others.  That  is  the  only  way  I 
can  be  like  Him,  or  show  my  love  for  Him.  I  must 
live  for  God,  by  living  for  others.  There  is  no  other 
way." 

What  a  simple  thought,  and  yet  it  is  the  sublimest 


204  The  Chasm  Bridged. 

philosophy  of  the  world.  It  is  Christianity — it  only 
is  Christianity. 

Her  own  disposition  and  life  was  the  greatest  cable 
of  all  in  the  bridge.  Reality  could  be  in  Henry 
Fielding's  dream,  because  she  was  what  she  was. 

Each  day  had  added  something  to  the  strength  of 
the  unseen  bridge,  until  the  eventful  and  fateful  night 
in  December. 

Henry  ventured  to  step  upon  it,  and  cross  to  her 
side.  To  the  deepest  joy  of  his  soul,  and  almost  the 
deepest  surprise,  it  did  not  break. 

He  had  kept  the  precious  secret  for  a  whole  day, 
and  was  making  it  known  to  Elsie  the  next  evening, 
when  suddenly  there  came  a  slight  knock  upon  the 
door. 

"I  wonder  why  they  don't  ring  the  bell,"  said 
she,  as  she  rose  to  go. 

"Never  mind,  it  is  hard  for  you  to  get  up.  I  will 
go,"  said  Henry,  and  started  for  the  door,  without 
waiting  for  the  bell. 

What  amazement  as  he  looked  out  into  the  blind- 
ing snowstorm,  now  drifting  all  over  the  porch,  to 
see  a  pale,  emaciated,  and  almost  frozen  form  in  the 
doorway.  A  young  man,  so  changed,  but  not  be- 
yond recognition.    It  was  Will,  their  brother. 

For  an  instant,  Henry  forgot  his  awful  crime,  and 
welcomed  him  as  if  nothing  had  ever  happened. 
He  seized  him  by  the  hand,  and  with  the  other  hand 


The  Chasm  Bridged.  205 

upon  his   left  arm,   almost    drew   him   across   the 
threshold. 

Elsie  was  near  the  two  brothers  in  an  instant,  and 
threw  her  crippled  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed 
him. 

She  then  flung  herself  into  a  chair,  and  sobbed  as 
if  her  heart  would  break. 

He  seemed  speechless,  and  too  cold  to  talk. 

They  warmed  him,  and  fed  him,  and  waited  patient- 
ly for  explanation. 

He  commenced  several  times  to  tell  the  awful 
tragedy  of  these  months  of  his  life,  but  Henry  and 
Elsie  both  kept  saying : 

"Wait,  now,  until  you  get  warm.  We  have  time 
enough." 

But  at  last  it  came,  and  in  such  pathos,  that  they 
all  wept  together,  as  he  pleaded  for  their  forgiveness. 
He  kept  on  saying :  "I  did  not  mean  to  do  it.  I  did 
not  know  what  I  was  doing.  It  was  the  poison  that 
I  had  been  drinking.  Oh,  God  forgive  me,"  he  cried. 
"I  have  been  in  the  place  which  they  say  is  the  doom 
of  the  lost.  I  know  what  it  is.  Remorse — remorse — 
remorse.  No  one  can  describe  it.  No  one  knows.  I 
could  not  stand  it  longer.  Now,  I  want  to  suffer  the 
penalty.  I  am  not  only  willing  to,  but  I  want  to.  I 
must." 

He  told  them  of  the  horror  of  that  night  in  their 
old  home.    How  he  had  fled,  and  walked,  and  ridden, 


206  The  Chasm  Bridged. 

and  hidden,  all  the  way  into  Canada.  There  he  con- 
cealed himself  and  his  crime  for  months  until  con- 
science had  driven  him  almost  mad  and  made  him 
feel  that  death  was  preferable  to  such  a  life.  Neither 
a  Hugo  nor  a  Hawthorne  ever  made  the  picture  of 
an  awakened  conscience  too  vivid.  It  is  reality.  It 
is  suffering  beyond  all  human  agony.  It  had  almost 
changed  every  feature  of  the  man.  It  had  forced  its 
way  into  every  drop  of  blood  in  his  veins.  It  came 
as  reality  in  the  daytime,  and  as  a  ghost  to  frighten 
in  the  darkness.  He  could  not  escape.  Conscience 
discovered  his  hiding-place,  and  forced  him  to  seek 
another,  only  to  instantly  frighten  and  condemn  him 
again. 

"Oh,"  said  he,  "I  wished  I  had  done  like  George 
Roebling."  He  was  one  of  their  old  neighbors,  and 
went  to  school  with  them.  They  had  been  constant 
playmates  in  childhood. 

"What  did  he  do?"  asked  Henry. 

"Why  do  you  not  know.  He  became  a  drunkard, 
too,  but  he  did  not  strike  his  mother.  He  went 
away  to  the  West  to  make  his  fortune,  and  gave  great 
promises  to  his  mother  as  to  how  he  was  going  to 
come  after  her,  and  care  for  her  all  her  life.  But, 
instead  of  getting  rich,  he  went  into  bad  company, 
and,  step  by  step,  went  down  until  he  was  the  lowest 
of  the  low,  a  drunken  tramp,  and  thus  he  wandered 
all  the  way  back  home  to  his  mother,  who  had  not 


The  Chasm  Bridged.  207 

seen  him  for  years,  or  heard  from  him.  She  re- 
ceived him  into  the  old  home,  and  cared  for  him,  and 
told  him  to  stay  until  he  had  conquered  his  appetite 
and  temptation. 

"One  morning  she  gave  him  some  money  to  go 
over  the  mountain,  to  a  town  where  they  were  hold- 
ing temperance  meetings,  and  many  men  were  being 
saved.  He  went,  and  she  told  us  how  she  kissed  him 
good-by  and  waved  her  handkerchief  to  him  as  far 
as  she  could  see  him,  and  then  went  back  in  the  house 
and  prayed  as  she  had  never  prayed  before. 

"When  he  reached  the  place  rain  was  falling,  with 
a  mixture  of  snow.  He  had  no  overcoat  or  umbrella. 
He  went  to  the  church,  and  it  was  closed.  He  tried 
to  find  the  speaker,  and  could  not.  It  was  only  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon— four  hours  still  before  the 
meeting  was  to  be  held.  No  door  was  open  to  him, 
except  the  door  of  a  saloon.  He  went  in,  and  wrote 
a  note  to  his  mother  like  this/'  and  Will  could  hardly 

push  the  words  across  his  lips :     "  'Dear  Mother I 

am  cold  and  wet.  The  church  is  closed.  Everything 
is  closed  except  the  saloon.  I  am  in  the  same  misery. 
The  old  appetite  is  back  again.  I  have  been  drink- 
ing; there  is  no  hope  for  me.  I  know  you  will  for- 
give me.  It  is  for  your  sake  as  well  as  my  own. 
Forgive  me.    Your  boy,  George." 

"When  he  had  written  this  note,  he  reached  across 


208  The  Chasm  Bridged. 

the  bar,  and  seized  a  revolver  which  was  lying  there, 
and  sent  a  bullet  crashing  through  his  brain. 

"God  knows  that  story  was  sad  enough,  but  how 
much  worse  is  mine  ?  Would  to  Heaven  I  had  killed 
myself  before  I  struck  the  best  woman  who  ever 
lived,  but  now  I  must  pay  for  the  crime.  I  have  paid 
in  part,  but  now  I  will  pay  it  all." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said : 

"I  did  not  come  to  trouble  you.  I  will  not  dis- 
grace you  any  more  than  I  have.  But  I  came  this 
way  to  see  you  and  ask  forgiveness,  and  then  go  and 
give  myself  up." 

"Oh,  my,"  said  Elsie,  "you  shall  not  do  that.  Can- 
not there  be  something  done  ?" 

Henry  sat  with  his  eyes  to  the  table,  and  did  not 
know  what  to  say. 

Elsie  continued :  "I  will  do  anything  for  you. 
We  will  give  up  the  home,  or  anything,  rather  than 
have  you  do  that." 

"No,"  said  he,  as  he  clenched  his  hand  in  firm- 
ness, and  bit  his  lip.  "I  must  do  that,  and  only  that. 
I  cannot  hide  any  longer.     I  must  face  the  penalty." 

Henry  looked  up,  and  said :  "I  would  not  see  you 
suffer  if  I  could  help  it,  and  you  have  my  fullest  for- 
giveness, but  what  other  way  is  there  out  ?" 

"There  is  none,"  said  he.  "I  do  not  want  any.  If 
I  am  paying  the  price  of  my  crime,  it  will  be  the 
first  and  only  peace  I  can  get." 


The  Chasm  Bridged.  209 

He  remained  with  them  only  that  one  night.  All 
persuasion  failed,  and  his  determination  was  imme- 
diately carried  out. 

The  hard  master,  conscience,  was  obeyed. 

The  sentence  of  life  imprisonment  was  the  pen- 
alty, and  the  law  of  the  harvest  was  proven  again. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

IS    THIS    A    DR^AM? 

The  week  before  a  new  home  was  to  be  estab- 
lished, and  the  harmony  of  two  hearts  united  to  make 
the  sweetest  music  on  earth,  Henry  was  awakened  in 
the  night,  at  the  end  of  a  strikingly  real  dream. 

It  was  one  of  those  clear  visions  of  the  night  hour, 
which  seemed  to  possess  almost  as  great,  if  not  great- 
er, reality  than  that  which  the  eyes  see  in  brightest 
light. 

Everybody  recognizes  the  experience  of  a  sudden 
start  and  wakefulness  in  the  night,  and  the  first  won- 
der— whether  it  is  a  dream  or  actual  life. 

He  could  hardly  make  himself  believe  he  was  not 
just  what  this  peculiar  part  of  human  life  had  made 
him  think  he  was.  So  vivid  had  been  the  lightning 
flash  in  the  darkness  that  it  kept  his  eyes  open  for  an 
hour,  and  his  thoughts  rushing  against  and  tumbling 
over  each  other.  This  dream  might  have  had  an  in- 
troduction in  the  hours  of  some  day,  but  he  did  not 
recognize  it. 

He  had  now  seen  himself  suddenly  transferred 
from  foreman  in  the  factory  to  the  place  of  owner 


Is  This  a  Dream?  2ix 

and  employer.  Something  like  this  had  once  been 
the  star  in  his  sky,  but  he  had  thought  it  a  shooting 
star,  and  that  it  had  fulfilled  its  mission  and  disap- 
peared forever.  He  had  changed  his  plan  of  invest- 
ment, and  all  his  savings  had  been  placed  in  Elsie's 
life. 

That  was  a  mystery  now,  but  it  was  the  greatest 
treasure  he  ever  had  in  this  world  or  the  next. 

The  strangest  thing  in  human  existence  is  the 
working  of  Providence,  but  it  is,  none  the  less,  a  cer- 
tainty. 

Plan,  purpose  and  prayer  do  not  always  return  in 
the  same  garments  in  which  we  dress  them,  as  we 
send  them  out  on  their  holy  errand,  but  they  return 
laden  with  richer  blessing  than  hope  or  faith  dared 
expect. 

Henry  Fielding  had  now  at  last  reached  his  ideal, 
and  desire  had  been  satisfied,  but  it  was  a  dream. 
Something  only  for  a  night,  and  a  disappointment — 
a  mushroom  instead  of  an  oak. 

In  his  dreams  he  saw  himsef  at  the  head  of  a  great 
business,  conducting  it  on  Chrisitian  principles,  and 
securing  the  interest  and  sympathy  of  all  his  em- 
ployees. He  had  discovered  the  great  secret.  There 
was  no  clashing,  and  no  outburst  of  jealousy.  There 
were  no  bitter,  biting  sentiments  being  uttered  on 
either  side.    There  were  no  strikes,  and  no  possibility 


212  Is  This  a  Dream? 

of  them.  The  spirit  of  Christ  was  not  foreign  to  the 
spirit  of  successful  commercial  enterprise.  The 
Golden  Rule  and  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  were  not 
enemies  of  the  employer  or  employees,  either  one. 

That  which  awakened  him  was  the  sound  of  his 
own  voice,  and  he  was  saying,  "Heaven  bless  your 
union.    Our  interests  are  one." 

He  held  the  secret  of  his  dream,  but  it  would  not 
say  good-by  to  either  his  memory  or  imagination. 

The  day  before  the  joyful  sound  of  the  wedding 
bells  he  had  revealed  the  strange  vision  to  Grace, 
and  said  he  wished  he  might,  for  her  sake,  as  well  as 
his  own,  change  his  position,  and  attempt  to  reach 
the  ideal  of  his  life. 

They  were  one  in  spirit  and  desire,  to  reveal  Christ 
to  the  world,  and  especially  to  the  workingmen. 
Never  did  two  hearts  carry  sweeter  love.  There  was 
no  chasm — his  wish  was  hers. 

The  proposition  was  made  by  her  that  a  part  of 
her  money  be  used  in  the  purchase  of  a  site  and  the 
erection  of  buildings  suitable  for  the  same  business 
as  that  in  which  he  was  now  engaged,  and  that  he  be 
at  the  head  of  it,  to  try  the  effect  of  the  Gospel,  and 
example  of  Christ  in  every  department  of  it. 

After  two  years  of  hardest  toil  and  almost  rigid 
exemplification  of  the  principles  of  his  Christian  life, 
Henry  Fielding  stood  in  the  presence  of  all  his  em- 
ployees, to  say: 


Is  Tliis  a  Dream?  213 

"The  plan  which  has  been  adopted  here  so  far  will 
be  continued.  We  will  meet  every  six  months,  and 
talk  over  the  interests  of  this  business,  because  its 
welfare  concerns  you  just  as  much  as  it  does  me.  I 
propose  that  you  shall  have  your  just  share  of  its 
profits.  I  shall  not  hold  any  selfish  secret  from  you. 
I  am  not  only  willing,  but  desirous,  that  you  shall 
know  the  condition  of  the  business,  and  that  you 
shall  pass  your  opinion  concerning  the  share  which 
you  think  you  should  receive. 

"The  risk  is  mine,  the  plan  and  strain  are  mine, 
and  I  am  confident  that  you  will  recognize  all  this. 
I  am  willing  to  trust  you,  and  when  I  cannot,  I  must 
cease  to  conduct  the  business.  I  take  you  into  my 
confidence,  and  I  want  you  to  call  this  your  business!. 
I  do  not  believe  much  in  some  kinds  of  co-operation. 
Most  all  of  the  attempts  in  calculating  and  mathe- 
matical methods  have  failed ;  but  I  do  believe  in  this 
kind  of  co-operation,  and  it  is  a  vital  part  of  my 
Christianity.  If  I  cannot  do  business  right,  I  will  not 
do  it  at  all.  If  I  cannot  do  it  as  a  Christian,  I  will 
not  do  it  at  all.  If  I  cannot  do  it  with  your  love,  and 
deepest  interest  and  satisfaction,  I  do  not  wish  to  do 
it  at  all.  The  little  money  that  is  in  it  is  of  minor 
and  trivial  importance.  Of  what  value  is  money, 
when  it  rests  in  the  selfish  hand,  or  is  the  treasure  of 
a  slave-holder?     Money  is  only  good  to  invest  in 


214  Is  This  a  Dream? 

other  lives,  and  in  eternal  interests.  That  is  the  way 
I  look  at  this  business.  It  is  the  best  channel  for 
mutual  helpfulness. 

"If  you  have  any  grievance,  don't  hold  it,  and  in- 
crease it,  but  come  right  to  me,  and  we  will  talk  it 
over  as  brother  men  should. 

"Shall  you  continue  to  have  your  union?  Yes. 
Make  it  just  as  valuable  as  you  possibly  can.  Pro- 
tect yourselves,  and  your  fellow  man.  Protect  your 
skill ;  secure  the  best  legislation.  Make  the  union  an 
educational  factor.  Increase  its  power  for  good.  Give 
the  needy  in  it  a  share  in  your  prosperity.  Look  after 
the  sick  and  the  sorrowing.  Do  not  lose  sight  of  the 
great  object  of  your  organization.  I  am  not  afraid 
of  it.  It  is  a  friend  to  my  factory,  if  we  do  as  I  have 
suggested,  and  as  I  have  agreed  to  do  by  you. 
Mutual  understanding  and  mutual  sympathy  is  our 
salvation. 

"I  shake  hands  with  every  man  of  you,  in  a 
righteous  compact  to  do  my  part.  When  you  come 
to  understand  what  it  means  to  furnish  the  capital, 
and  the  risk,  and  the  brains,  and  the  nervous  strain, 
you  will  not  ask  anything  unjust.  I  wish  you  would 
consider  me  a  member  of  the  union.  Of  course,  I 
cannot  be,  and  yet,  perhaps,  that  day  will  come — 
anyway,  when  the  employer  might  be  an  honorary 
member.    I  don't  see  anything  impossible  or  imprac- 


Is  This  a  Dream?  215 

ticable  in  my  being  at  your  meeting  sometimes,  or 
you  might  consider  these  meetings,  each  six  months, 
as  union  meetings.  I  promise  you  it  will  be  more  for 
your  good  than  any  other  gathering  of  the  organiza- 
tion. At  least,  I  want  you  all  to  count  me  as  your 
best  friend." 

"We  will,  sir,"  came  from  all  over  the  room,  and 
in  every  man's  heart  there  was  an  echo  to  every  word 
he  had  uttered. 

As  they  were  separating,  Henry  Fielding  hastened 
to  one  side  of  the  room,  to  the  side  of  a  man  who 
carried  sorrow  in  his  face,  and  said : 

"Charles,  I  am  in  sympathy  with  you  in  the  great 
loss  of  your  little  boy.  I  only  heard  of  it  to-day.  I 
had  a  little  brother  die  of  scarlet  fever,  and  your 
grief  carried  me  right  back  to  the  old  home  and  boy- 
hood days.  If  I  can  serve  you  in  any  respect,  I  am 
ready  to  do  it." 

As  he  turned  away,  some  man  who  had  overheard 
the  conversation  whispered  to  another :  "That  man  is 
a  Christian." 

His  men  were  not  machines.  He  knew  them  as 
best  he  could,  and  respected,  yes,  almost  reverenced, 
manhood  wherever  he  saw  it. 

He  recognized  them  when  he  saw  them,  and  the 
slight  nod  of  the  head  brightened  the  world  for  a 
workingman,  and  drove  him  toward  better  things, 


216  Is  This  a  Dream? 

and  to  the  side  of  Christ,  because  he  always  felt,  if 
he  did  not  say,  "There  goes  a  Christian." 

The  factory  prospered.  The  men  did  not  strike, 
and  it  was  at  last  proven  that  "Godliness  was  profit- 
able unto  all  things."  "Did  not  Christ  belong  to  a 
labor  union  ?"    Was  this  a  dream  ? 


THE  END. 


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